Privyet, Russia!
by TFSuperfan
Summary: Anechka is 18 when she loses everything.  Her family, friends, village, everything is gone.  Then, she meets Ivan Braginski, and her life is changed forever.   But is it for better or worse?  Human and country names used. Please don't be confused.
1. Rescue

Running. My bare feet repeatedly hit the snow, propelling me further. My breathing was fast and shallow. The heavily falling snow limited my visibility to about one yard. My mind screamed for me to keep going even as my muscles stiffened and cried out in objection. My balalaika swung back and forth, constantly hitting my back as the worn down strap threatened to snap. The messenger bag that held some morsels of food and a picture of my family swayed violently, the buckle clattering loudly, joining the sounds of my respiration that broke the night's silence.

I looked over my shoulder and saw them 10 yards away, still chasing me, following me relentlessly. Three huge men dressed in black, their faces twisted into cruel smiles. They knew I was losing speed, that I would eventually tire out and stop. Then, they would kill me. They shouted threats in Russian, but I ignored them, though I didn't look away so I could track their progress. Bad idea.

"Ugh!" I grunted as I collided with somebody and fell onto the cold snow. "Watch where you're standing!" Then, I looked up and my mouth dropped open as the other person turned around.

The person I had run into was at least a foot taller than I was. He had silvery hair, a very long scarf, and a heavy tan coat. His gloved hands gripped a metal faucet pipe stained with blood. But what really struck me were his eyes. A deep, radiant shade of purple flooded his irises. His slight smile was not enough to conceal the pain that resided in his eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, privyet," he said happily.

I shrieked when I risked a glance behind me. My pursuers were rapidly gaining, now only about five yards away.

The man looked up and saw the men. "Are you running from them?"

I nodded and began to rise to my feet, silently cursing the tall man. What kind of fool stands outside in the snow holding a pipe like that? And why was there blood on it? I stood for a second, then pain shot through my ankle and I gasped on my way back to the ground.

"Shoot," I muttered.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," the man said as he lifted his pipe over his shoulder like a baseball bat and began to walk towards the men.

I tried to yell "No, don't! They'll kill you!" but my mouth had run dry. The men stopped a yard away from where I sat and looked at the man, puzzled as to why he wasn't running. I began biting my nails and whispering, "Please don't die, please don't die." I would feel immensely guilty if he died trying to save me.

I scrambled on all fours in the opposite direction, trying to get as far as possible from the inevitable conflict.

The man with the pipe swung his weapon around and whacked one of the men in black over the head. Even from a distance, I heard the sickening crack of bone shattering. The first victim crumpled into a heap on the ground, the snow around him rapidly turning from white to red. The tall man smiled an innocent smile at the other two and thrust his pipe through another man, swiftly drawing it out as the body fell forward with a muffled thud. The third man, startled at the quick deaths of his companions, began to run. I tried to cover my eyes, but they were glued to the horror as the pipe man ran after the escaping thug. He grabbed the black figure and snapped his neck, the terrible sound of it reaching my ears.

Just that fast, the carnage was over, leaving three bodies lying in the snow. My eyes widened, and I began to hyperventilate. If he could do that kind of... damage to three grown men, imagine what he could do to me, an 18-year-old?

I felt sick, and put a hand to my forehead. It felt like a raging inferno, even in the low temperature I was in. Now was definitely not the time to get a fever! The man started to walk toward me, and I wanted to scream "Stay away!" but my tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth. All I could do was make a feeble attempt to keep a distance between him and me. Crawling, however, was not effective. I was suddenly overcome with fatigue and collapsed in the snow. I rolled over so I could witness my own death, die with dignity. It had stopped snowing, the sky had cleared. The moon was beautiful... I only seemed aware of the burning in my forehead and the beauty of the winter's night sky. The moon and stars set against a dark purple... just like the man's eyes...

I saw the man's figure standing above me, outlined in the moonlight, his face drawing closer. His expression confused me; he had a look of concern on his face. I turned my head and saw the pipe, glistening with new blood. I gave up and relaxed, prepared to die. What I wasn't prepared for was the sensation of being lifted from the ground. I was being carried bridal style by the man.

"You are safe with me," he whispered.

Then, everything went black.


	2. Awakening

The sunlight hit my face and shone through my eyelids. I turned over and groaned quietly into the pillow, "No... I don't wanna wake up..."

I sat up anyway, stretching and yawning. I rubbed my eyes before opening them and absorbing the sight of the room in which I lay. My eyes opened wide in fearful confusion, and they hurt from the light. I looked wildly around and spotted the man sitting next to the bed, snoozing in a chair. Though his bloodstained pipe was propped up against the door frame, it scared me. It was a murder weapon. I didn't dare try to escape; the man could wake and...

My gaze returned to the man and the memories of the previous night flooded my mind. No... no, it hadn't happened. It couldn't have happened... I pulled my knees in close and buried my face in my hands. Gone, everyone, gone... I didn't cry, though. I hadn't cried since Mother and Father had died, it seemed to have taken the tears right out of my body. Dmitry and Irena had been my only family, though my two precious friends, Halina and Gregori, may as well have been... But now, they were dead. All of them. Now I was all alone. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my chin on top of them.

Loneliness is a strange feeling. It's both heartbreaking, yet, for me... somehow freeing. I could start over, no more little siblings to take care of...

_ No!, _my conscience scolded. _You know you loved them!_

But I'm free now, my other inner voice countered, no more responsibilities.

The voice fell silent. I had only been 13 when the world's weight crashed down onto my shoulders. Ever since then, I had wanted freedom. Freedom from responsibility and worry...

I just sat there, staring at the door for who-knows-how-long until I heard the man in the chair stir. I took a sharp breath. I didn't move, just let my eyes drift over to where he was. He seemed harmless enough when he was sleeping, but he was a cold-blooded murderer. He had just killed three men in under two minutes. His eyes opened, and I tried to disguise my rapid breathing.

"Dobroe utro!" he said, smiling.

I stuttered, "G-good morning to y-you, too."

He didn't seem to register my fear and said, "I stayed here all night, waiting for you to wake up. You were yelling something about fire."

"Oh, I have a... fear of fire," I lied.

The man nodded. "What is your name?"

I eyed him suspiciously, trying to think of a reason to lie about my name. He had saved me, brought me to a warm place, given me a place to sleep... "Anechka Volkov," I replied truthfully. "And you are?"

"Ivan Braginski. But you can call me Russia."

"Russia? As a nickname?" I asked, confused.

"No. I am Russia," he said.

"Y-you are... Russia...?"

"It is complicated. Basically, I am the spirit of Russia."

"Like a ghost?"

"A ghost...? No, more like... I am Russia as a person."

"I see," I said quietly, though I really didn't understand it completely.

"So, Anechka, why were you running barefoot through the snow?"

I had a strong urge to say "Well, why were you standing around in the snow with a bloodstained faucet pipe?" But said instead, "I... I'd rather not talk about it."

Russia nodded. "Hmm... Is that your family?" he asked, pointing to a picture on the nightstand next to the bed I sat in. I was shocked.

"H-how could you...?" I gasped. "You went through my things?" I didn't mean to shout- I was appalled that he would just go through my things, even if I had so little.

"It wasn't much," he said, echoing my thoughts. "Just a loaf of bread, that picture, and a balalaika." He leaned closer to the picture. "You look so young..."

"Yeah, that picture is from a few weeks before my parents..." I gulped and couldn't go on.

Russia closed his eyes; I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Who was this Russia? How could he easily kill three men in cold blood and be cheerful like a child the next morning? Why did he rescue me?

I sighed and straightened my legs out. "Mr. Russia?"

The country's eyes fluttered open and looked innocently up at me. "Da?"

"May I have my balalaika?"

Russia seemed to consider this for a moment, then said, "Da." He clapped and called, "Toris!"

Toris? I wondered.

A moment later, a man with shoulder length brown hair and a scared look on his face entered the room.

"Y-y-yes, Mr. Russia?"

"Go get this young lady's balalaika. It is in the closet by the front door."

"Y-yes sir, Mr. Russia," the nervous man stuttered. With a bow, he left the room.

"Ah, Lithuania..."

I started. "Lithuania? The country?"

"Da. That was Lithuania," Russia said.

"So, do all the countries have their own... person?"

Russia looked beyond me, out the window. "Da. America, France, England, they all have a person that represents the country." He looked back to my picture and sighed. "Mmm, family."

"You don't have a family?"

"Nyet. I have a family. Two sisters: Ukraine and Belarus."

_More countries_, I thought.

"Are you close?"

Russia stared at the picture; I could see his purple eyes flitting from person to person. "Nyet. Ukraine does not talk to me, and Belarus is..." He sighed again. "Nyet, дорогой . We are distanced from each other, all of us."

The sadness in his voice made me feel pity. He had no close family. How sad it must be, to know you have family but do not communicate with them.

"I-I'm... sorry," I said awkwardly.

"Don't be," he said cheerfully as he straightened up. "I will be fine as long as I have Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia to keep me company."

A knock on the door made me turn my head.

"Войдите," Russia said. Lithuania entered with my balalaika case.

"Here you go, miss," the country said as he handed me the instrument.

"Thank you, Mr. Lithuania," I said kindly with a smile. His nervous look faltered and turned to a smile for a moment, but quickly disappeared as he hurried from the room.

I opened the case and pulled out the instrument, relishing the feel of the aged wood in my hands. I closed my eyes and held the guitar-like instrument to my nose, inhaling deeply and letting the corners of my mouth turn up as the familiar instrument enveloped my senses. "My mother gave this to me," I murmured. "When I was a small child, she taught me to play..."

Russia spoke. "Could you sing a song?"

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "My mother taught me one. It was a lullaby. Would you like to hear it?"

He nodded, so I stretched out my fingers and strummed the balalaika. Its sound was so soothing.

"My sweet child,

Do not fret,

Sleep and dream

I am here for you.

My little child,

I will take care of you.

Do not fret, my precious child.

Sleep and dream."

I smiled to myself; the familiar music from my childhood calmed my mind. I looked over at Russia and saw that he stared dreamily at me.

"Mr. Russia?" I said.

"Nn? You have a beautiful voice, Anechka." He continued to stare, and I became unnerved.

"Th-thank you," I stammered. It was one thing to be complimented by a country, but his stare was a bit... "My mother sang very well, too. She says we are alike."

Russia looked at the picture of my family again. "Da, you two look alike... Are these your brother and sister?"

I was taken aback. "Y-yes, Mr. Russia. That is my little brother, Dmitry, and my little sister, Irena."

Russia closed his eyes and nodded slowly. I was amazed by this man, Mr. Russia. He had no real family, yet was happy... Or was he?

His violet eyes snapped open, and he looked at me. "Come, Anechka, I wish to show you something."

)*(*)*(

I finished writing this at about 1:30 this morning, then fell asleep at my computer. I am totally abusing Google Translate right now, I'll probably have a whole bunch of Russian phrases in here...

Privyet - Hello  
Dobroe utro - Good Morning  
Дорогой - Darling  
Войдите - Enter  
Da - Yes  
Nyet - No

I wrote the lullaby all by myself. I was almost asleep by the time I finished, ugh.

Reviews? Ideas for the story are welcome; all my plot bunnies ran away and are hiding...


	3. Evil Among Sunflowers

"Eh?" I frowned. "Would we have to walk?" I pulled my right leg up and saw my ankle in bandages and a splint. I must have broken it.

"Oh, yes. It is outside of the house," Russia said, smiling lightly.

"Mr. Russia, I don't know if I can. When I fell yesterday, I- Ah!" I yelped as I was lifted from the bed bridal style again.

"Don't worry," Russia assured, "I'll carry you."

I had a faint memory of passing out the night before when he picked me up. Did that mean he carried me through the snow all the way to his home? I felt my forehead; it was not feverish anymore. _He gave me medicine, bandaged my ankle too_, I thought. _He didn't have to... _I looked down at my clothes and saw I had a long sleeve purple shirt on and some long light brown pants that puffed out at the ankles. _He gave me new clothes..._

"Mr. Russia," I said. He looked at me, and I said, "Mr. Russia, I'm sure I can walk or hop or something, you really don't-"

"Shh," Russia shushed. "I don't mind."

I decided he wasn't going to budge, so I wrapped my arms around his neck, or rather, his scarf, so as not to fall and said, "Okay, then, let's go."

He carried me out of the room and out into a larger room with two couches and some plush chairs that looked very comfortable. We went past that and I saw an open door. I craned my neck to see inside. It was a kitchen, and a strong scent of vodka drifted out of it. He kept walking down halls, past doors, through rooms, until he reached a door at the end of a long hall.

"It's going to be a bit chilly," he warned as he opened the door.

It was the backyard, plain except for a large greenhouse sitting in the middle of it.

"Close your eyes, it's a surprise," he said. I obeyed, and I felt the temperature rise about 20 degrees as we stepped inside the greenhouse.

"Odin, dva, tri, otkryt!" At the last word, I opened my eyes very wide.

"Wow, Mr. Russia, it's amazing!" Sunflowers were everywhere. Small, large, short, tall, some about to bloom and others at their peak. Thousands of yellow petals surrounded hundreds of brown centers, all held up by strong green stalks. "These are all yours?"

"Da," the Russian man said, beaming. "I love sunflowers. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Da, da!" I agreed in delight. The previous night's memories seemed like a dream. There was no possible way such a kind man would ever kill in cold blood. I must have passed out and dreamed it all... I thought of something. "M-Mr. Russia...?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you... real?"

Russia did not respond for a moment; he breathed in the greenhouse's scent and closed his eyes. He opened them again after a moment and said, "Why do you ask?"

"I just don't want this all to be a dream."

Russia looked at me and said, "Well, even if I am not real, this greenhouse certainly exists. You are not in a dream, Анечка."

I nodded and turned my gaze to the sunflowers. "Why do you like sunflowers so much?"

"Well, Siberia is very cold. I wish that I could live in a happy place with sunflowers and where it's always warm. That is why whenever I am sad, I come here. The brightness and warmth makes me happy."

"Always warm..." I repeated softly.

"Da," Russia said.

We just stayed there, looking at sunflowers in silence for a long while until I heard a boy's voice call, "Mr. Russia! Lunchtime!"

Russia turned his head to the greenhouse door. "That would be Raivis. Come, Anechka, you may dine with us."

I didn't have much of a choice, seeing as he was holding me, but nodded anyway. We proceeded toward the house for lunch.

)*(*)*(

Russia set me down in a chair at a large table big enough for about eight people.

A man in a suit with glasses and the same nervous look Lithuania always wore walked out of the kitchen holding a large platter of food. He set it down and looked at me. I gave a small wave.

Lithuania, the man with glasses, and a little boy were all sitting, but not eating, instead repeatedly looking at the food, then to Russia, then me.

Finally, Russia said, "Toris, Eduard, Raivis, this is Anechka Volkov. She will be staying with us for a while."

Toris, Eduard, and Raivis introduced themselves as Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia respectively. I introduced myself, then Russia said, "You may eat now."

We all tucked in, eating shchi, pelmeni, and shashlyk. I hadn't had food so good since... I had never had food so delicious. My family had been relatively poor.

"Вкусный!" Russia said contentedly half an hour later, glancing around at all the empty plates. "Eduard, clear the table."

The Estonian complied as the other two Baltic states rose and left. When all the plates, bowls, and platters were gone, I scooted my chair back and made my best effort to get on my feet. After he had saved me, healed me, given me clean clothes, and fed me amazing food, the least I could do was stand up on my own.

Though I had to put more weight on my left foot and stand lightly on the toes of my right foot, I could still stand up. _You can deal with pain,_ I thought over and over as I tried to walk normally to push my chair back in.

Russia watched all this, the expression on his face showing faint amusement. I glanced at him and tried to ignore him. He got up from his seat and came over to me. I looked up at him and realized that he wasn't towering over me as much as he had seemed to, though he still rose about half a foot above me.

"I can carry you back to your room, if you'd like," he said as he reached for me.

I pushed his hand away. "Um, no thank you, I can walk."

He started staring at me again, and this time, a faint purple aura surrounded him. "Kolkolkol," he muttered under his breath as his smile vanished. The sound sent a chill down my spine. "Why do you resist my help, дорогой?"

Fear seemed to be closing its icy fingers slowly around my neck, making me stutter. "M-Mr. Russia, I c-can walk to my room, I j-just need to know how to g-get there. C-can you tell me?"

The aura seemed to darken. "Why tell you when I can get you there? No point agitating your ankle. It could get worse."

Scared of what could happen if I got him upset, I said, "I-I guess it'd be alright..."

The purple aura disappeared and his smile returned as he scooped me up and carried me to the room I had woken up in. He put me on the bed and said, "There you go. Now, isn't that better?"

I didn't want to say anything wrong, so I nodded. "Mmhmm." The bloodstained faucet pipe sitting against the door frame seemed to be taunting me.

"If you need anything," Russia said as he took the pipe and opened the door, "don't hesitate to ask anyone."

Nodding mutely as he exited and closed the door, I reached for my balalaika. I strummed random notes in my confusion and fear, desperately hoping I had just imagined the purple aura. That was it, I thought. Just my imagination. He just wanted to be nice and carry you to your room. That's it. I closed my eyes and let my head droop over the instrument, listening to its sweet sound.

Lithuania burst into my room, though I didn't look up. "Miss Volkov!"

"Yes, Mr. Lithuania?"

"Please, Miss Volkov, be careful!"

This piqued my curiosity, so I looked up and saw the wild-eyed, terrified expression on the man's face. "Why?"

"M-Mr. Russia... He's... evil," Lithuania whispered.

"How so?"

"He- he-" Lithuania stammered. "Just don't upset him, please! We don't want to lose another one!"

"Another one?" I asked, very nervous now.

Lithuania clamped a hand over his mouth in surprise, then said in a muffled, but deeply afraid tone, "I've said too much! Please just don't make Mr. Russia angry!" Then, he fled the room.

The ominous warning disturbed me. Another one? So I hadn't imagined the purple aura... I grabbed my family picture from the nightstand and spoke to it for some reason.

"Mother, Father, please! I'm trapped with this scary man, and I don't know what to do!"

)*(*)*(

Oh, Toris, why did you tell her... Here are the translations:

Odin, dva, tri, otkryt! - One, two, three, open!

Анечка - Anechka

Вкусный - delicious

дорогой - darling

Shchi - a hot cabbage soup

Pelmeni - meat filling wrapped in thin dough

Shashlyk – a type of shish kebab made with meat and onions

As always, reviews are welcome and wanted!


	4. Insanity

I clutched my chest as though that would slow my heart rate. Evil... It was a strong word, but it could just as well describe him. Murderer, evil, the words seemed to blend together and intertwine, repeating themselves over and over in my head. Lithuania said Russia was evil, but it didn't seem as such. At least, not when he was calm. Not when that purple aura wasn't encompassing him.

Carefully resetting the picture to its position on the nightstand with trembling hands so as not to drop it, I took several deep breaths. Words and thoughts raced into my mind, vanishing as quickly as they had arrived.

Russia.

Evil.

Murderer.

Faucet pipe.

Blood.

Killer.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

The last word wouldn't go away; it seemed stuck in my thoughts. Monster. "M-monster," I whispered almost silently to myself. I couldn't stay in this house. Beautiful as it was, I couldn't stay. Not with Russia. _Not with that monster_, I thought. _No, definitely not._

But how was I supposed to leave? If I was caught trying to escape, he would surely kill me without a second thought. I needed a plan. I would have wait until my ankle healed, that was obvious. I wouldn't be able to run far, if at all, with a broken ankle. The next question was where? Where in the world could I possibly go? Since I had been asleep while Russia carried me to his home, I had no idea where I was relative to Moscow or some other big city. Sighing in defeat, I saw I would have to work out the details as my stay continued.

Suddenly, a wave of cold air seemed to wash over me. My body felt cold, even under the blankets. I began to sweat and realized I was getting sick again. _No, no_, I thought. _Not now, not in _his_ home. _I closed my eyes, wishing for strength.

Weakness assaulted my body, and I groaned loudly, hoping it would catch somebody's attention. The door handle turned after a second or two, and I opened my eyes halfway to see who it was. I inwardly pleaded that it was one of the Baltic states. It had to be, it just had to...

The gloved hand I saw on the handle crushed my spirits, but it was better than nobody.

"M-Mr. Russia," I groaned, "I think the"- I coughed- "sickness is relapsing..."

The tall man sat in the chair next to the bad and pulled off one of his gloves, placing the bare hand on my forehead. "Hmm... Yes, you are sick again."

I blinked slowly and looked at the Russian man. "It doesn't feel good to be sick."

Russia closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nyet, it does not." He put his glove back on and stood up. "I will return shortly." He began walking to the door.

"Mr. Russia... Please, don't leave me..."

"I will return shortly," he repeated. The door closed, and I was alone.

_What is he going to do?_ I wondered. _Bring his pipe and take me out of my misery? Get my things and kick me out?_

I feebly wiped away the sweat gathering rapidly on my brow. I had to be strong, just had to. It was just a cold, I could get through it...! But every time I had ever been ill, someone had taken care of me, whether it was my mother, father, a friend, or sibling, somebody was always with me to feed me, keep me company, and basically help me get better. But this... if he did kick me out, I was sure to die. No doubt about it. I lay there pathetically, wheezing and pondering my fate.

Time seemed to crawl by slowly and deliberately, making "shortly" feel like "never." When was Russia going to return? Was he going to let me lie here, expecting him, while he forgot I was alive and never came back?

My spiraling thoughts of worry were abruptly stopped when the door opened and Russia reentered, holding a bucket. He walked closer and sat in the chair, and I saw the bucket contained water and a hand towel.

I frowned. "M-Mr. Russia, you don't have to do this for me."

Russia removed his gloves and wrung out the towel. "Da, Я знаю, but I want to." He wiped my face with the towel. It was cool and made me feel a little better. The Russian dipped the hand towel back in the bucket and wrung it again. I sighed in slight confusion as he folded it and placed it on my forehead. He goes from childlike to coldblooded murderer to concerned savior... His personality bounced up and down, changing in a moment, unpredictable. Was he suffering some kind of disease, or...

A sudden bout of the chills pulled me from my thoughts and a coughing spasm racked my body. I began to breathe heavily, and Russia noticed.

"You are very sick," he said, concerned.

"No, really?" I said sarcastically. I tried to laugh, but it broke down into a bunch of coughs. "I really don't feel well, Mr. Russia," I puffed.

"I can stay here with you," he offered.

Knowing what very well might happen if I refused, I coughed and said, "Okay."

Russia took the towel and dipped it back in the bucket. As he replaced it on my head, I decided to get to know my host. "Why do you wish to go to a sunny, warm place with sunflowers, Mr. Russia?"

He put his hands in his lap and looked at me. "General Winter. I use him to win wars, he is a very good ally, but... He attacks me every year. He is cold and harsh, taking lives of people and plants, killing... everything..."

I was startled to see the purple aura around him again. This time, it was perfectly visible. Lithuania's words echoed in my mind: "Just don't upset him, please! We don't want to lose another one..." Why had I asked that question?

Russia was now hugging himself and mumbling strange words I didn't understand. My father being from England, I grew up speaking mostly English. I had forgotten most Russian, and I was sure that was what the crazed man in front of me was speaking. I picked up one small thing: "Так холодно..."

It scared me to see him like this, perhaps more so than seeing him kill. "M-Mr. R-Russia," I stammered. "It was only a-a question..."

Russia didn't seem to hear me. He was rocking back and forth on the chair and rapidly mumbling Russian. The aura danced back and forth and a shadow descended over his eyes, which were now wide and crazy with terror. "Kolkolkol..."

At a loss, I reached out and gripped his shoulder tightly. The aura and darkness vanished and he looked at me, smiling once again. "Nyet, I do not like General Winter."

"I... see..." I said, bewildered. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"N-nothing," I said. What the heck was going on here?

)*(*)*(

Russia lost his mind for a second... And doesn't remember it. Ooh, chills.

Nyet – No

Da – Yes

Я знаю – I know

Так холодно... – So cold...


	5. The Best One

When I opened my eyes, I sensed that I had slept for a long time. The window across the room had the curtains drawn, though no light shone around the edges. Turning my gaze to the right, I saw Russia snoozing in the chair again, a faint smile still on his face. The bucket sat empty on the floor next to him and I took the towel off of my forehead and felt my face. It was soaked in sweat, as were the sheets around me. My back felt sticky, and I felt a strong urge to shower.

Slowly getting up from the bed, so the springs wouldn't creak and wake up the sleeping man, I tried to think if I had seen a bathroom anywhere. The house was so huge, there were doors everywhere, one of them was bound to be a bathroom. While thinking this, I got tangled up in the covers and fell off the bed with a loud thunk, hitting my head on the metal leg on the way down. My fingers grasped the blanket and held fast as I waited to hear Russia's voice, but I just heard a sniffle and some indistinct murmuring before it was silent once more.

I quietly got up, rubbing the bump that was rapidly rising on the back of my head gently and adjusting my feet so I could limp around. I lifted all the blankets and placed them back on the bed before opening the door and looking around for a bathroom.

"Where, oh where, could a shower be..." I sang softly as I roamed the halls, opening door after door. Every door led to a vacant room, a storage area filled with boxes, or, some doors, a brick wall. At last, after searching for what felt like forever, I came upon a small bathroom with a shower/bath and turned the light on. "Thank God," I muttered as I turned the water on and undressed, taking off the bandages and splint on my ankle. I looked in the mirror and saw my brown hair almost black with grime; I hadn't washed in a while. My usually pale skin was flushed pink and my green eyes were bloodshot.

I took this as an even stronger sign of needing to wash and stepped into the shower, feeling the knots in my shoulders release immediately and my muscles relax. I looked down at the water flowing down my body and into the drain as it turned brown and swirled out of sight. As I washed my hair out several times with soap I'd found under the sink, I began humming my mother's lullaby and letting the warmth and comfort of the warm water envelop me and carry me away. That is, until I heard the door open.

The hinge squeaked slightly as the door was pushed open. I heard footsteps and stared through the nearly opaque shower curtain as a large, blurry figure enter the bathroom. All of a sudden, the humming stopped, the water just felt like water, and a deafening silence punctuated only by the shower's noise filled the bathroom. I regained awareness of the pain in my ankle and let out small gasps. The figure placed something on the sink and left.

I didn't move until I heard the door click back into place. Then, I quickly finished showering, turned off the water, and stepped out. On the sink were a hairbrush, two towels, some new clothes for me to wear; this time, a silky green shirt and some blue pants that were soft and fit well.

After changing into my new clothes, I brushed my hair well and opened the door to find myself face to face with Russia, who was looking down at me with an unreadable expression.

"O-oh, privyet, Mr. Russia," I said, trying to spot any purple aura hovering around him.

He looked me over and asked, "Do you like your clothes?"

I thought it was a strange question, but answered, "Da, they are very nice and comfortable."

This made the Russian man smile and he said, "Хорошее, I was worried you didn't like the color."

"Of course not, I like every color," I said. I would make sure I stayed on the safe side with questions and answers from now on.

"I almost forgot, I got you these." Russia presented me with some black slipper-shoes with bows on the toes.

Amazed, I received the shoes and said, "Thank you! They are so pretty!" Pretty things: one of my many weaknesses.

"I thought you might like them," Russia said gladly as I put the shoes on and grinned from ear to ear.

"I've never had shoes so beautiful! Just hand-me-down boots from when my father was younger and anything else I could find," I remembered out loud. "I—" Russia leaned down and sniffed my hair.

"Your hair smells like strawberries," he commented.

"Er... You have had strawberries?"

He nodded while keeping his face in my hair. "Da, I visited America once and tried them. I will never forget the taste."

Russia's eyes closed, and I had a feeling he wasn't going to move for a while, so I put a hand on the wall for support and used the other to hold my broken ankle off of the floor. As I expected, he stayed smelling my hair for a long while until the smell of pirozhki reached my nose. "Mmm... I smell pirozhki." My stomach growled, and I tugged on Russia's scarf. "Mr. Russia, why don't we go downstairs and eat?"

To my relief, he agreed and took me downstairs so we could have breakfast. Estonia had made a huge batch of pirozhki for everyone, and I was amazed there could be so much food in one place when he bustled out of the kitchen holding the tray of hot buns.

Lithuania followed, holding three large bottles of vodka. He placed the alcohol on the table and I whispered, "Mr. Lithuania, I don't drink, and I don't think you four could finish three bottles of vodka that big!"

"No, Miss Volkov," Lithuania said, "these are all for Mr. Russia." He sat down in his seat and nodded at me when I stared at him, gaping.

"You may begin to eat," Russia said as he heaped a pile of pirozhki on his plate and pulled a bottle of vodka over to him.

I watched him eat and drink as I absentmindedly nibbled at my breakfast, looking down at my plate each time he glanced in my direction. At one point, he opened his fifth bottle of vodka—Lithuania had brought out several more bottles— and said through a mouthful of pirozhki, "Wou ou ike 'ome?"

I quickly said, "No thank you, Mr. Russia, I don't drink." I stuck to formalities because after seeing what drunk men would do in a bar across the street from my old home, I thought it best to err on the side of caution.

"No need to worry so much," Estonia whispered. "Mr. Russia doesn't get drunk."

I nodded, but still said nothing.

Eventually, the plates were clear and Latvia was clearing the table. I stretched out and smacked my lips. Those pirozhkis were better than the ones I made by miles. "Mr. Russia?"

The Russian man drained the last drops of vodka from his eighth bottle and drew a hand across his mouth. "Da?"

"Will you take me to the greenhouse? I want to see the sunflowers." I also wanted some silence so I could think a little...

"Okay," he said. He picked me up and walked around until he was at the door that led to the backyard. We went out and back into the warm greenhouse that was filled with sunflowers. "Here you go," Russia said as he set me down on the ground.

"Thank you, Mr. Russia," I called as he exited and closed the door. When he had gone back inside the house, I crawled over to a sunflower that was just a bud and stared at it for a length of time, breathing in the earthy scent of the greenhouse. "You are only a little flower now; you haven't grown fully yet... You still are trying to find your place in this world and only when you do will you truly bloom... But right now, you are vulnerable and delicate, you need tender care and love." I recited the words my mother would always say when I was a child to the bud and brushed it gently with my forefinger.

The whole greenhouse was alive with plants and little insects and color. I could feel the energy of it all flowing freely around me, the soil keeping the sunflowers alive, which helped to sustain the insects, who died and gave back to the earth and kept the cycle going. Everything in the greenhouse depended on everything else... Could one thing survive without the other? Perhaps if it began to grow on its own, a sunflower would not need insects and survive with only the soil. But they still needed Russia to water the flowers and keep them alive... So really, life in the greenhouse depended entirely upon somebody else...

I laid down on the soft ground and looked up at the greenhouse ceiling, noticing one lone sunflower that had grown tall enough to reach the top. One sunflower grew above all the others... one sunflower was taller and stronger... Only one sunflower was the best.

)*(*)*(

Fyeeehhhh~ I am sooo tired! It's 1 in the morning and I just finished! *is about to collapse on laptop and sleep* I was too lazy to pull up Google Translate and do real work, so there. This chapter was a little bit more about Anechka than Russia or the Baltics. Just a little chappie focusing on her. And yes, she did sweat out the fever entirely.

Privyet – Hello

Da – Yes

Хорошее – Good

Pirozhki – A bun stuffed with meat, onions, potatoes, etc.

As is always the case, review, tell a friend, watch, fave! Now, if you'll excuse me... *falls asleep*

P.S., Cookies to anyone who can guess the meaning of the metaphor in the second to last paragraph!


	6. Chef for Hire

I opened my eyes and squinted in confusion. Purple was the only thing in my vision. Backing my head up a bit, I yelped and tried to untangle myself from Russia. The attempt failed, however, when I found that I had wrapped my arms and legs around him in a death grip.

"O-oh, Mr. Russia! So s-sorry, I didn't mean to-" I frantically thought of the little Russian my mother had taught me- "Ya izvinyayus!" I somehow registered, in the midst of my panic, that I was lying on my side on the greenhouse's dirt floor with my head resting on the Russian's arm.

He smiled and said, "It is no problem. I was just watching you sleep."

Shock struck me and my mouth hung open in fear and fright. He was watching me sleep? "You were w-watching me sleep?"

"Da. You looked very peaceful, too. Except that you were yelling something..."

I gulped, regained a tiny bit of my composure, and said, "Mr. Russia, it's a bit creepy to watch people in their sleep."

"Creepy...? Why?"

I faltered when I thought I saw purple mist around him, but shook my head and replied, "People, including me, are very vulnerable when they are asleep and easily attacked. And watching someone in their sleep is just weird."

Russia pulled his arm out from under my head and propped his head up with it. "I don't think it's weird. I watch Lithuania in his sleep all the time."

I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything else to say. Instead, I released my hold on Russia and sat up with my legs crossed. "Why is that sunflower so tall?" I asked, looking up at the yellow flower touching the roof.

Russia rolled onto his back and stared up at the flower. "Hmm... I do not know. It gets the same amount of water, I treat it like my other sunflowers, but it just grows so tall."

"Mmm..." I closed my eyes and imagined how big the sunflowers would be if it wasn't confined to the greenhouse's space. An image of five Russias stacked on each others' shoulders came to mind.

"Mr. Russia!" I heard Lithuania call from the back door of the house. "Someone is at the door for you!"

The Russian got to his feet and held a hand out to me. "Would you like to come with me?"

I nodded. Russia helped me get off the ground and picked me up, and we headed for the house.

)*(*)*(

Lithuania was waiting for us at the back door and I briefly wondered whether I should tell the country that Russia watched him in his sleep. _No,_ I concluded quickly. _He wouldn't be able to go to bed tonight_.

The door bell kept ringing. Ding, dong, ding, dong.

"Just a moment," Russia called. He opened the door and I studied the visitor.

A man slightly shorter than Russia stood before me. He had blue eyes and slick blonde hair and was wearing a green military uniform. His expression showed nothing but quiet anger, but it was the kind that permanently resided in someone's face.

"Ah, Germany," Russia greeted with a smile. "Come inside. It's cold, da?"

Germany did not reply, but marched into the house, keeping an eye on me. "Italy insisted on coming with me," he said, jerking a thumb behind him.

"Ciao," said a voice from behind Germany.

A shorter man, about my height, floated into the house, clutching Germany's arm when he caught sight of Russia. He had short brown hair and a curl on the left side of his head, his mouth bearing a nervous smile. He wore a blue military uniform over a black shirt and tie.

Italy glanced around and did a double take when he saw me. "Ah...! You're pretty!"

I tipped my head to one side as the man took my hand and kissed it gently.

"I've never seen a lady so pretty! Ve..."

Germany shoved Italy aside and said to Russia, "I've come to discuss the, eh... You know."

Russia nodded. "Da."

The German man looked at me and I inhaled a little bit. He was scary. "Who is this girl?" he asked, not letting his gaze leave my face. I could see his pupils looking at my eyes, then my mouth, then my nose, studying me carefully.

"This is Anechka Volkov. She is a guest here and will not bother you or Italy."

Nodding to make sure Germany understood, I asked, "What are you going to be talking about?"

"Never you mind!" the German man shouting, startling me. A vein was throbbing in his forehead.

Russia set me down and said, "Anechka, take Italy to your room while Germany and I talk."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I grabbed Italy's hand and said, "Let's go." I limped away, glad to leave the presence of Germany.

When we had reached a hallway, I stopped and leaned up against a wall, winded.

"Are you okay?" Italy asked.

"Yes, my ankle just hurts. It's broken."

Italy gasped dramatically. "Did Russia break it?"

I held a finger to my lips and said, "No, I fell badly and it broke." I came away from the wall and grunted, "We're almost there." The few treks I had already taken around the house were enough to give me a mental map of the place.

After a few more minutes, I opened the door to my room and jumped onto the bed. "Ah, it's so soft..." I took a deep breath and smelled the covers. They had been washed and were clean. I gave a little laugh.

"Hmm?" Italy said from the window. "What's funny?"

I stretched my arms out and shook my head like a dog trying to dry itself. "The smell of covers. This fresh, at least. I've never smelled it before."

Italy turned and looked at me, puzzled. "Never? Why?"

The question was difficult. "We could never get them this clean," I answered vaguely. "Why do you hang around with Germany?" I said, changing the subject. "He's so... scary."

Italy sat on the bed next to me and grinned. "Germany seems scary, but he's actually really nice. He likes to drink beer and eat wurst, a lot of wurst! I don't like it, though. I eat it so that he won't feel sad or think nobody likes his food. England's food is the worst! He can't cook, and the only person I've ever met that likes England's food is America. I don't know why America eats so many hamburgers; pasta is so much better! Prussia and Germany like drinking beer together, they're brothers. They'll be at a bar all night long..."

The country rambled on and on about food and some other countries, like China ("His food is so good! He looks like a girl with his hair down, so he keeps it up."), France ("Big brother France's food is delicious, but so expensive! He and England don't like each other."), and Romano ("He's my big brother! He's a lot like Spain when it comes to food, though. Not enough pasta!").

I asked a few questions, usually when there was something I didn't quite understand, but he just talked for what seemed like forever.

"Italy, it's time to go!" I heard Germany calling faintly from downstairs hours later.

The Italian frowned and stood up. "I hope we can talk again someday, Anechka!" he said as he opened the door and left. It was about 30 seconds later that I heard him wail, "G-Germany, where are you? This house has so many doors and hallways and stairs! GERMANY!"

I couldn't help smiling as I painfully got up and escorted Italy to the door.

Everybody said their good-byes and eventually the house went back to being silent and mostly empty.

"Well," I said, clapping my hands together, "that was fun. We should invite them over again sometime."

"Da," Russia agreed. "Did you and Italy talk much?"

"Oh, yes. He was talking about all the other countries and their food. He says England can't cook," I laughed. "He needs to try my food!"

"You like to cook?"

"Do I! If we had quality ingredients at my house, I would never be craving something tasty. I'd just have to cook it!"

"Я вижу..." Russia murmured, placing a hand on his chin and thinking deeply. He looked at me with renewed interest. "How would you like to work for me?"

Taken by surprise, I gasped. "Work? Like paid work?"

"What other work is there?" Russia said.

My brow creased. "Mr. Russia, I couldn't ask you to pay me." He merely smiled and said, "But you can save up the money for when you leave. That way, you won't be poor." His logic made sense, so I agreed. "What kind of work would I be doing?"

"You can be my personal chef!" he beamed.

Chef? I had never had someone pay me to cook for them... "Personal chef... Like I cook your meals for you?"

"Da! Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania can do the cleaning up in the kitchen, you just have to cook." The Russian man grinned like a child who'd had the best idea ever.

"Mr. Russia," I said. "If I cook, I'll have to clean up after myself."

Russia said, "But-"

"No buts. That's the way I grew up. You make a mess, you clean it up."

"Very well," Russia sighed, the disappointment lingering in his voice. "You missed lunch while you were napping, so now you can make dinner!"

I rubbed my hands together, thinking of what I could cook. "Is your kitchen well-stocked?"

"Anything you could possibly need will be there."

Inside of my head, an old recipe was pulling itself out of the depths of my memory and reading itself to me. "Perfect. I've got just the right one," I said softly, turning and limping back to my room to make sure I could remember everything about the food I was ready to prepare.

My balalaika sat against the bed, silently asking to be played. I absentmindedly strummed the instrument while my mind's eye skimmed over the recipe for my favorite meal. I hadn't made it in years; the items needed had been scarce. _He said he had anything I could possibly need..._ _I have to trust him._

It seemed like minutes later that I heard Estonia call from downstairs. "Miss Volkov, it is time for you to begin fixing dinner!"

"Coming!" I called back, making my way downstairs. "Ah, Mr. Estonia," I said, "Where is the kitchen? I know I saw it somewhere before."

The country showed me to the kitchen and my eyes widened in astonishment.

A stark-white refrigerator rested in the back of the huge kitchen, right next to a vast counter housing a sink big enough for two or three large pots. Cabinets lined the walls above. A stove with six burners was situated next to a double oven, and the tile floor was so clean you could probably eat off of it.

"This... is a home kitchen?" I mumbled.

Estonia nodded. "Mr. Russia has much money. Is the kitchen to your liking?"

"It's brilliant!" I rushed to the fridge and opened it. Food, food, and more food. "Do you eat it all?"

"Of course not. After it has gone bad, we toss it out."

"Oh..." It seemed like a waste, but rich people had to do something with rotten food. I looked around and spotted a smaller fridge in a corner. My hand was on the handle when Estonia said, "Do not open that. You do not need to."

Since I was the guest, I gravitated towards the cabinets, opening them eagerly. Pots and pans of every shape and size, lids, ladles, colanders, serving utensils, silverware, plates, bowls, and so much more filled every single one; there was one filled to the top with spices. "Wow..." My mind snapped back to the reason I was in the kitchen. "Right, Mr. Estonia, could you call Mr. Lithuania and Mr. Latvia? I might need their help."

Estonia nodded and left. I pulled beef, onions, and butter out of the refrigerator before getting a skillet out of the cupboard and some seasonings out of the spices cabinet. By the time I had assembled all that I needed, the three Baltics had arrived and were standing in the door way, waiting for instructions.

"Good, you're here. Mr. Lithuania—"

"Miss Volkov, while we assist you, please call us by our names. It will save time."

I nodded and said, "Toris, then, heat that skillet. Eduard, cut those onions up. Raivis, measure out..."

The preparation went smoothly; the men were very capable of cooking and assisting a chef. As the meal simmered, we washed the used dishes and utensils and put them back where they belonged.

"So," I said, "how long have you been living here?"

"A long time," replied Latvia. "We work for Mr. Russia. Cleaning, cooking, basically all the housekeeping comes down to us three. It's very difficult sometimes since the house is so big and there are so few of us."

Lithuania thumped the smaller country on the head. "Shut up! I'm sorry," he apologized to me. "Latvia's a bit spacey."

"I see. So who does what? Do you have designated chores?"

"Estonia usually cooks, Latvia and I clean. Mostly, anyway. Now that you have been appointed chef, all three of us will be cleaning."

"No, you won't. I need you to help me in the kitchen."

The Baltic states exchanged looks. "Mr. Russia may not be too happy about that," Estonia said.

"You don't want to get on Mr. Russia's... bad side," Latvia warned. "He does bad things."

"Bad things?" I echoed. Lithuania opened his mouth to say something, but the timer went off and I held a hand up. "Never mind. I don't think I want to know. Toris and Raivis, set the table. Eduard, you can help me get this ready to serve."

Everybody went to their assigned task; Estonia got the food out of the pan, onto a plate and into my hands. As I walked towards the door, my eye caught the Estonian man opening the smaller fridge from earlier and producing four bottles of vodka. "Of course," I muttered, backing out of the kitchen door and into the dining room.

The table was adorned with a white tablecloth and five decorative china plates. Russia, Lithuania, and Latvia were already seated.

"I present a favorite of mine: Beef stroganoff," I announced as I set the steaming plate on the down. Estonia followed, putting the bottles in front of Russia. We sat down and waited for Russia to give the word.

"You may eat."

Everybody began grabbing strips of beef and eating with gusto.

"Wow, Miss Volkov," Latvia said. "This is amazing!"

Everybody voiced their agreement between chewing and taking gulps of water or vodka. Nobody spoke much otherwise, but this made me happy. Back at home, nobody speaking during a meal either meant something was wrong or the food was amazing. Since everyone was smiling, I took it as the latter reason.

After some time, I noticed everybody's plate was clear, but nobody was getting up. My food was that good?

"That," Russia said suddenly, "was some of the best beef stroganoff I've ever tasted."

"Oh, thank you, Mr."— I yawned—"Russia. Mmm... That food made me sleepy. May I go to bed?"

When the Russian nodded, I got up from my chair and tottered away to my room. Upon reaching it, I spied my balalaika sitting on the bed and held it. "My sweet child, do not fret, I am here for you," I mumbled softly, playing the chords and closing my eyes. The scent of beef stroganoff lingered on my breath and moonlight streamed through the window where the curtains had been pulled away. Some sort of warmth filled the room, not the kind that was temperature-related, but... an inner feeling. This wasn't a bad place after all. All I had to do was cook for them, and I could stay... Paid, too... If Mother and Father could see me now...

)*(*)*(

I could barely make out the shape of a large figure above me in the darkness, though I could feel the weight bearing down on my body. The moon was probably hiding behind a cloud; the moonbeam I had been resting in was gone.

"Mr. Russia?" I asked, still half-asleep. "What are you doing—" My last words didn't make it out of my mouth. They were replaced by a bloodcurdling scream as the blade of a sharp knife plunged deep into my shoulder.

)*(*)*(

Yes! Finally, I have finished! A million apologies for the delay; I wasn't able to update for some reason. That's why this chapter is 3 chapters long: I'm making it up to you guys! Did I just put two other countries in the story? Yes I did!Did I just include a deathly suspenseful moment to freak you out? Oh, yes I did!

Ya izvinyayus – I'm sorry

Da – Yes

Ciao – Hello

Я вижу... – I see...

Beef stroganoff – Sautéed strips of beef served in a sauce of sour cream

Now, it's 11:45 at night and I need sleep. I don't want it, but I need it. Maybe I'll sleep on the couch; I may not make it to the bed...


	7. Black BUMPER

My shrieks didn't cease, not until Russia jumped up and ran out the door, locking it from the outside. I tried to get up and run after him, but he was too fast, and my feet got trapped in the blankets.

"Let me out!" I screamed, hammering the door with the fist of my good arm. "Let me out! You bastard! You son of a..." A steady stream of curses escaped my mouth and into the night. Never, ever had I used such language, even when my parents were gone. I had to be a role model for my little siblings. But now... "Unlock the door! Let me out of this nightmare! I want to leave! Let me go!"

By this time, I was in so much pain, I was either screaming unintelligibly or just howling in agony. After a few minutes of crying out to the empty hallway beyond the door, I sank down against the door, sobbing pitifully. "How could you! I thought you were a good person...! I hate you!" _That's right_, I thought, _You HATE him! How could he do this?_

My anger was rekindled and I jumped up, resuming my hollering and pounding on the door. "I hate you! I hate you! You're a monster, you hear me! A monster! No wonder nobody likes you! You're a terrible person with no heart and no soul! You're pure darkness! I wish you would die! You monster!"

The door swung open and I fell to the floor. There stood Russia, framed against the hallway's light, holding his bloodstained faucet pipe high over his head. His eyes were glittering in the dark, but not with that childish innocence, no. They sparkled with hate and a thirst... A thirst... for blood.

"Yes," I said softly. "I hope you die all alone. I hope everybody sees you for what you really are."

He brought the pipe hard down onto my back, and I heard a rib or two crack. I coughed, and a small bit of blood fell onto the blanket on which I lay. "You dare to insult me?" he hissed menacingly.

"I do dare, you abomination," I rasped.

He hit me again, on the good shoulder this time. I winced and coughed again; more blood came up. I could feel the life pouring out of me; quickly, painfully."How about now?"

"You're a monster, you hear me? A monster. MONSTER..." I whispered the last word as loud as I could before the pipe came down onto my head. "Monster, you say?" My consciousness slipped away, those three words bumping around in the swiftly dimming world.

Black.

)*(*)*(

Yes, I know this chapter is absolutely terrible. Please don't spaz on me for that! My brain is so creativitied out! I just wrote something three chapters long, that's why! Don't worry, good fanfiction readers, I will be working on a new chapter that will actually mean something, so deal with the suspense! As always, read, tell a friend, review, anonymously review, fave, and make sure you- *falls asleep*


	8. Two Sisters

Sunlight hit my face uncomfortably, painfully bringing me out of my slumber. My head felt like it was splitting open, and it hurt to breathe. Flashes of my previous encounter with Russia zoomed in and out of my mind. Blood, shouting, crying, pain. Was I dead? No, my hurting confirmed that somehow, I had survived Russia's attack.

I turned my head to the side and saw that my right shoulder, the one that had been stabbed, was in bandages. My chest was wrapped up, too. I gingerly felt around my lower ribcage and winced. Injured rib, or ribs, check. I felt my head and found that it had been bandaged.

The door creaked open and Lithuania appeared. His eyes dilated, and he ran before I could say a word.

_Oh, no,_ I thought with dread. _He's going to get Mr. Russia!_

The door reopened a moment later and I cracked an eye open, feigning sleep.

"I know you are awake," I heard Russia say. He entered, wearing a yellow turtleneck underneath a gray blazer. I couldn't see his expression from where he stood. "There is no point in trying to look as though you are sleeping."

Something willed me to open my eyes, and I saw the tall Russian man looking crestfallen. It didn't make me feel bad one bit. "You're insane," I spat. "Your mind is messed up. I can see why you're alone. Nobody would ever live with you because they wanted to."

Russia nodded sadly. "I do not... You do not understand... I just..." He couldn't finish his sentence, instead running to the side of the bed and kneeling. "Anechka, I did not mean to hurt you." He took my hand in his. I yanked it back and crossed my arms.

"You didn't mean to hurt me? You're crazy! You treat someone really nicely, then you beat them nearly to death? What is wrong with you?"

Russia's purple eyes shimmered with tears. "Please understand-"

"Understand what? That you're a monster with no heart or soul? I know that already."

The Russian put his hands in his lap. "Please, Anechka... Forgive me."

I glanced down to look him in the eyes and was surprised to see the pain, sadness, and sincerity that resided in them. He took my hand again, but I didn't pull away. "Forgive me," he whispered.

Something in the way this man was acting, different from any other way he had before. Not asking, but... pleading, begging... "I... You're forgiven." The words escaped my mouth without control from my mind. What was I saying? He stabbed me and almost killed me...

_And you forgive him? _My conscience hissed.

I can't not forgive him, my other inner voice reasoned. He might actually kill me this time, or be really sad and kill himself or something...

"I forgive you, Mr. Russia," I repeated.

Russia's eyebrows went up. "Верно? You mean it?"

Did I mean it? How could I mean it, after what he did? But it wasn't his fault, was it? His mind seemed unstable. But Lithuania had said Russia was evil. "Second chances can save a life," Mother used to say. A second chance for someone who had attempted to kill me? My mother's voice kept repeating her second chances mantra in my head, and I gave in. "Yes," I sighed. "I do mean it."

Russia smiled and said, "Thank you, Anechka!"

I nodded tiredly. "Mr. Russia, how long was I asleep?"

The man thought for a second and replied, "2 days. And a night."

"2 days?" I exclaimed. "But who's been doing the cooking and cleaning?"

"Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia, of course. They don't mind. They knew it was good that you slept for so long."

I frowned. "How is that good?"

"Well, it allowed you to heal more effectively than if you had been awake. If you weren't asleep, you would've insisted on cooking and you would be hurt even more," Russia said.

That was exactly what I would've done. "Mr. Russia," I said, "I don't want to be bedridden until I heal up. I can't just lie in bed and let you feed me. I must pull my own weight. My mother and father raised me to be responsible."

Russia said, "I understand how you feel, but you can't be going about. You would hurt yourself worse."

I saw that there was no point in trying to deny that I would worsen my injuries if I tried to move around too much, so I stayed in bed most of the next two weeks. As it turned out, I had a concussion, two cracked ribs, and I had dislocated my left shoulder, though it had been put back in place while I slept.

I stayed in bed for a few weeks to recover. With Russia away at meetings most of the time, I got restless and decided to try befriending the Baltic states. They were nice enough, if not a little jumpy, and sociable. They were around my age, a few years younger in Latvia's case, but that made them easy to talk to. Try as I might, however, I couldn't get any information about Russia's mental state or why he went crazy sometimes.

As my body got better, I could get around better; my ankle was less painful and I walked around more. Not having to rely on someone for transportation was wonderful, and I took my free time to explore the house.

Many rooms held old things, like clothes and various weapons from eras past. Some held things of use to me: in one particular dresser, I found a large array of colorful bandanas. In another, I found a pair of dusty overalls that Russia said used to belong to his sister.

One day, during a search, I spotted a door I hadn't seen before. Upon entering, I found that it was empty save for a stack of papers in the corner. Curiosity pulled me closer, and I saw that the papers were actually pictures.

They were all of Russia and two girls. One had short silvery hair, like Russia's, and wore overalls. She had a very large... bosom, to put it nicely. The other girl was very pretty and had long blonde hair that reached almost to her waist. She usually wore a dark blue dress with a bow tied in the back and frowned a lot.

The girls looked a lot like Russia, and I remembered what he had said when I first awoke in his home: "Ukraine does not talk to me, and Belarus is... Nyet, дорогой. We are distanced from each other, all of us." So were these his sisters...? I selected one yellowed picture with all three of them together and went to find Russia.

He was in the greenhosue humming "Korobeiniki" while planting some new sunflowers.

I rapped on the door. "Mr. Russia?" He looked up and motioned for me to come in. I opened the door and felt the temperature rise a little. It had been getting a bit warmer outside, though not by much. "I found this picture in an empty room. Are these your sisters?" I handed the picture to him.

Russia took the picture, and his eyes combed it for a few seconds. He sighed and showed the photo to me. "Da. This"- he pointed to the girl in overalls- "is my big sister, Ukraine. You have some of her overalls, remember? This"- he pointed to the pretty girl in the dress- "is Belarus, my little sister. Would you like to help me plant these seeds?"

Sensing he didn't want to talk about his sisters at the moment, I dug a hole and buried a seed inside. Why didn't he want to talk about his family? Something was going on with him and his sisters. _I've got to find them,_ I decided. _I must._

)*(*)*(

Oh, my. I am about to drop off right now. I had to save this three times and keep rewriting it because my laptop kept bugging out! Whatever, it's done know. I was actually listening to Korobeiniki while writing this, so I had to put it in. You know I had to! Oh, and I changed the word for "darling" because I had it wrong. I changed it in the second chapter, too, so don't worry!

Верно - Truly

Nyet - No

дорогой - Darling

Korobeiniki - Russian folk song, better known as the theme for Tetris

Da - Yes


	9. Pistols and Baskets

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for an opportunity to present itself. A couple days later, Russia announced that he was going to visit his sister, Ukraine, to collect a gas payment.

"Mr. Russia, may I go with you?" I asked. "Pazhalusta?"

The Russian looked down at me and thought. "Hm... I suppose so."

And so, we went on a trip to Ukraine. When we arrived at the airport, Russia grabbed my shoulder tightly and whispered, "Stay close. I don't want you getting lost."

I winced slightly as I nodded; the shoulder he was holding was the one he'd stabbed weeks ago. Russia noticed and took my arm instead, and we took a cab to Ukraine's home.

It was a little apartment, accessible from a small stairway leading up from the sidewalk.

"Big sister!" Russia called, knocking on the door. "We came to collect this month's gas payment! Big sister!"

I watched the door in anticipation of seeing Russia's sister. The door didn't open, though. I could hear a strange sound coming from inside the apartment. "Mr. Russia, what's that noise?"

"It's her... ah..." He was spared the need to answer when the door opened and Ukraine appeared.

She looked the same as in the pictures, but she seemed sadder, depressed. "R-Russia! I'm sorry, I cannot pay! I'll pay you back later, when I get rich, okay?" Ukraine slammed the door shut and left us standing there.

Russia hung his head and sighed. "Ukraine, what am I going to do with you?"

I reached to pat his shoulder, but heard a gunshot and crouched to the ground. Russia turned and gasped.

"Big brother," said a woman's voice, "who is THIS?" I heard heels clacking up the stone steps and sensed that someone was looking at me. "Stand up!" the voice hissed.

I obeyed, and standing behind me was Russia's little sister. She, too, looked just like she did in the pictures, frown and all. "Oh, privyet!" I extended my hand in greeting. "You must be Belarus. I'm-"

Belarus slapped me across the face and snapped, "I don't care who you are! What are you doing with my big brother?"

Rubbing my cheek, I said, "I was just coming with him to collect a gas payment from Ms. Ukraine."

Russia's sister pointed a pistol at me and said, "You'd better be. Russia is MY big brother! He belongs to me and nobody else! Do you understand?" She cocked the pistol and I nodded slowly, raising my hands in submission. "Y-Yes, ma'am." Without moving the gun away, she looked at Russia and said sweetly, "Big brother, what are you doing with... this? Don't you want to marry me? Don't you LOVE me?"

I turned to look at Russia and saw that he was cowering in fear. Was he... afraid? "B-Belarus," he stammered, "please leave."

The woman looked shocked. "You want me to... It's because of HER, isn't it!" Belarus looked back at me and shrieked, "You're trying to steal my Ivan from me!" She shook the gun in my face. "THIEF!"

"GO AWAY!" Russia screamed. Belarus looked at her big brother, opening her mouth to say something, and I jumped at my chance.

I snatched the pistol pointing at my face and aimed it back at its owner with shaking hands.

"You wouldn't dare," Belarus said venomously.

"O-Oh yeah? T-T-Try me," I stuttered. She knew I'd never be able to shoot. I knew it too. Even so, anything that scared Russia had to be bad. At a loss, I chucked the gun away as hard as I could; it landed in the middle of the street, several yards away.

Belarus growled and went to retrieve her weapon. Russia grabbed my hand and ran, practically dragging me behind him. He didn't stop to call a cab, didn't stop to catch his breath. We kept running on until we ended up in a countryside and Russia collapsed.

"Is Belarus... still following us?" he panted, gasping for air. I looked around and said, "No, she's gone."

Russia didn't get up. He just stayed on the ground, sweat beads all over his face. He still wore his heavy coat and scarf.

"Mr. Russia, do you want me to take your coat? You seem warm," I said. Russia just shook his head and continued to take deep breaths. Frowning, I took a spare bandana from my pocket and sat next to Russia, wiping the sweat from his face as he had for me long ago.

"Спасибо." Russia sat up and smiled. "Belarus wants to marry me for some reason. She often shows up wherever I go and tries to get me to marry her."

"She's creepy," I said dumbly.

"Da. She is kind of crazy, I think."

Russia and I tried to find out where we were so we could get back to the airport and catch a flight back to, well, Russia. Eventually, we found the airport and managed to buy two tickets on the next flight home. As we sat in the terminal waiting, I heard that sound again- the one I had heard at Ukraine's apartment- and turned around.

Ukraine was walking towards us with a large picnic basket. She looked around nervously, spotted us, and said, "Russia!" Now she was running; Russia had spotted her too and stood up.

"Ukraine? What are you-"

Russia's big sister shoved the basket into Russia's arms and yelled, "My boss has forbidden me from seeing you but I made some food for you! I used fresh milk and yummy stuff, so I hope you like it!" Ukraine ran off, crying, "I hope we can meet again someday!"

Just like that, she was gone. Russia looked at the basket he was holding and opened it. I gasped when the contents were revealed. Cakes, cookies, all kinds of baked goods along with several plates of halushki and syrniki were inside.

"Wow, they look so good! I can't wait to try them," I said in awe, reaching into the basket and pulling out a halushka and taking a bite. "Mmm! Try one, Mr. Russia!"

And so we sat there in the airport munching on the snacks Ukraine had given us until it was time to board the plane. We found our seats and got settled; I took a syrniki from the basket in my lap and ate it in one bite. Russia suddenly yelped and ducked down in his seat.

Looking to see what was wrong, I caught sight of Belarus standing in the front of the plane, her gun aimed at my face. "This'll teach you not to take my Ivan!" Before she could pull the trigger, two security guards took the pistol and dragged Belarus away. "No! Release me, I say! She's stealing my precious big brother!"

At last, the plane was in the air and we were on our way home. As I looked out the window of the plane, something came to mind. If I could figure out where the Russia's house was in relation to Moscow- where we were landing- perhaps I could find a way to... escape.

)*(*)*(

Oh, Belarus, you're psychotic... Did you know I just LOVE researching food? I don't know why, but researching traditional foods from Russia and Ukraine is so fun! I'm insane...

Pazhalusta - Please/You're Welcome

Спасибо - Thank you

Da - Yes

Halushki - Sweet dough similar to doughnut holes; usually tossed with sugar (Singular: halushka)

Syrniki - Small pancakes made of quark cheese (a soft cheese similar to cottage cheese) often garnished with sour cream, jam, honey, or apple sauce


	10. Runaway

_Dear Mr. Russia,_

_ Thank you for taking care of me. It's been fantastic being your guest and personal chef, but I have to find my way in life; I've burdened you for far too long. Please don't be sad about my departure; perhaps we'll meet again someday. I'll never forget all you've done for me and remember you always._

_With Love,_

_Anechka Volkov_

I folded the note up and placed it on the bed, writing "For Mr. Russia" on the outside of the paper. "Looks like it's time to go," I murmured, slinging my balalaika on my back and taking the framed picture of my family, along with several bandanas, a small blanket, and a change of clothes, in my messenger bag. Making my way downstairs quietly, I opened the front door silently and ducked out.

The night air was frigid; I rubbed my arms, hoping to warm myself up. Walking across the grounds and out of the gate, I breathed a breath of fresh air. A new start. I took my first step to a new future and kept stepping on.

I don't know how long I kept walking on; all I remember is looking up into the sky, where the rising sun tinted the sky pink and temporarily blinded me. An hour or so later, I reached a small town. Without going anywhere else, I went to the nearest person I could find.

"Excuse me, sir," I said, tapping a man on the shoulder. "Where is this town?" He turned around and looked at me with a strange expression.

"К сожалению, я не понимаю по-английски," the man said. I decided that meant he didn't know English.

"Um... Karta?" I said unsurely, making hand motions like I was opening a map. The man's face brightened.

"О, я вижу!" He reached into his back pocket and brought out a map. He unfolded it and pointed to a little spot. "Здесь."

"Moscow?" I asked, seeing the star on the map and gesturing towards the compass rose.

The man pointed toward a large building, but over a little bit. "Там."

I nodded and said, "Spasibo" before walking away. I was far from Moscow; but if I took a day to relax here, I could leave that night and walk for a few days until I reached the Russian capital. "Or," I thought aloud, "I could pick up a snack here and just keep going." The former idea sounded more appealing, so I headed for a small café and bought lots of sweets, breads, and pastries— using only hand gestures and pointing—to eat during my journey.

Reaching the conclusion that renting a room at the inn until night arrived would unnecessarily cost money, I decided to just keep walking around. There was nothing really around town, but I hung around in the streets, watching people pass and nibbling on sweet pastries. The local school let out a bit later, and a little girl came up to me.

"Новые," she said, pointing at me. What did that mean again?

"...Da," I said, nodding. The girl seemed satisfied and walked away. The encounter made me think: if everyone here spoke Russian, what would it be like in Moscow? Surely nobody, or at least very few people, would speak English. If anyone did, how would I find them? Perhaps I should have stayed and had Russia teach me...

_No!,_ my conscience shouted. _You can't ask him for anything else. Look what he's already done for you: taken you in, clothed you, fed you, paid you, without him you would be dead! It would be rude to ask any more of him._

I nodded resolutely and straightened my bag. "Do svidanya," I said to nobody as I spotted the large building the man from earlier had pointed to and walked out of the town. "Destination: Moscow."

Night fell, the sun rose and set, the moon appeared in the sky again. I began feeling tired. My feet hurt, my shoulders ached, and my eyelids felt heavy. Searching around the barren land, I spied a building in the distance. Trudging towards it, I saw it was an abandoned barn. The inside smelled of moldy hay and animal, but the floor was dry and, with my blanket over me, warm. Thoughts of Moscow raced through my head, tales of my mother's told themselves.

The Moscow Zoo, the Red Square, the Kremlin. "Saint Basil's Cathedral is wonderful!" she had said so many times. "I wish I could visit again!" She never had gone twice, but I would go for her. "You'll be able to see the Cathedral again, Mama," I whispered before falling asleep.

)*(*)*(

I woke to a clattering sound. My eyes shot open, but couldn't see far in the dark. What was that sound? Craning my head towards the direction of the noise, something was pointed at my face. I looked up to see Russia holding his pipe and wearing a livid expression.

"Mr. Russia!" I shouted in confusion. "What are you doing here? How did you find me? What's— "

Russia narrowed his eyes, if that was possible, and hissed, "You left me!"

Dumbfounded, I said, "What?"

His face no longer sported the childlike half-smile, the innocence bubbling over in his eyes. No, he looked almost identical to the night when he'd stabbed and beat me. "No whats! You know what you did!" he shrieked, wildly shaking my farewell letter in front of my face. "Tell me, what is this?"

"It's— It's my letter of thanks and good-bye?" I stammered, shocked at Russia's manner. Why was this so terrible?

"Yes! How do you just leave someone like this? Saying good bye through a simple note?" Something inside him seemed to have snapped. I had to be careful, otherwise the pipe that hung by his side might swing at me.

"I— Mr. Russia, I don't understand! Why did you come find me? What's going on?" I cried desperately.

The Russian didn't reply, but he grabbed my messenger bag and balalaika in his right hand put the straps over his shoulder.

"Mr. Russia!" I gasped as he slung me over his other shoulder— still wrapped up in my blanket— and ran outside. "Mr. Russia! Let me go! I have to go to the Cathedral for Mama!" I beat my fists on his back furiously, but he didn't stop running.

Never in my life have I seen someone run so fast for so long. It seemed nearly impossible that he was a real person and not some kind of robot or something. Some time later, I became aware that the sun was coming up, and I was hurting all over my body. My stomach hurt from bouncing on Russia's shoulder as he sprinted, and my hands hurt from being balled up into fists for such a long time.

Russia ran and ran, seemingly running only on the thought of taking me home. I gave up trying to hurt him, seeing that he felt no pain, and just squirmed feebly as if he would release me then. Russia only stopped a couple times to catch his breath, but didn't sit down or take his coat off or anything. He presented me with no chances of escaping.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the moon had risen and Russia's home loomed over me. Russia didn't put me down at the doorstep, but went inside and proceeded down the hall.

_Where is he taking me?, _I thought frantically as he passed the staircase that led to the floor my room was on. Russia kept walking until he reached a door that had the word "Иван" written on it. He threw it open and dropped me on the bed, which was huge and was extremely soft. He laid on top of me and immediately fell asleep.

I growled out of discomfort and embarrassment. Turning my head to the side, I saw a vase with a lone sunflower in it. Something was engraved in the vase. Squinting, I made out "Anechka: My Little Sunflower" in cursive writing. It was repeated below in Russian.

My fingers traced the words. "'My Little Sunflower'," I said softly. "His Little Sunflower...?"

Russia mumbled something in his sleep and I looked at him. He hadn't bothered to change or take his shoes or gloves off. He seemed so peaceful, and though his eyebrows pointed downward in a frown, his mouth bore a ghost of a smile. He almost always had that same smile, even while he slept. This man, Russia, had been so upset about me leaving that he'd traveled a seemingly impossible distance to find me and bring me home... It was then that I made a decision.

"I'll never leave you again," I whispered, running my fingers through his silvery-beige hair. "Never again."

)*(*)*(

Thank you for your patience! My laptop is being really dumb and is trying to bug me, I swear. So, yeah, here it is. Read it, tell other people, review, and, well, you know. Oh, I love Google Translate...

К сожалению, я не понимаю по-английски . - I'm sorry, I don't understand English.

Karta - Map

О, я вижу ! - Oh, I see!

Здесь. - Here

Там - There

Spasibo - Thank you

Do svidanya - Good bye

Иван - Ivan


	11. A Trip To Paris

Irena stroked my hair gently as she always did when she had a nightmare. She'd crawl in bed next to me and wake up early the next morning, petting my head as she would a dog while she waited for me to awaken. Her touch was soothing; her personality ,and just her overall, was much like my mother.

"Irena, what did you dream about?" I asked drowsily. She didn't answer, but I didn't bother turning on my back to look at her. "Hm?" Then I remembered that Irena was gone, my little town was demolished, I lived with Russia, I'd tried to leave, and...

I bolted up, and Russia took his hand away from its spot on my head. My eyes widened and my cheeks probably flushed a bright red. "M-Mr. Russia! I—" I almost apologized when my mind recalled something. Russia had fallen asleep on me, hadn't he? I looked all around, taking in everything to make sure the previous night hadn't just been a dream. There was the vase with the sunflower, the canopy painted a bright yellow with sunflowers all over it, the comfortable blankets with with a sunflower pattern on them. Sunflowers everywhere.

"What is the matter, Anechka?" Russia asked. "Lay back down, your hair feels soft." I obeyed reluctantly, and the Russian man resumed caressing my hair. "Irena... That was your little sister, da?"

I nodded slightly. "When she had nightmares, she'd get in bed with me. After she woke, up she'd pet my hair like that until I woke up and she'd tell me about her dream."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Russia nod slowly. He was silent for a bit, then said, "Anechka, I was just wondering... There will be a meeting the day after tomorrow in Paris. I was wondering if you might want to go with me."

I said nothing. I couldn't think of anything to say. Paris? My father often spoke of how his mother, who was French, had taken him and his father, who was British, to Paris once and had one of the best times of his life. The food, the people, the sights to see. I'd always wanted to go to Paris and see what it was like. According to him, it was one of the greatest places on earth.

"If you do not want to go, it is okay. I just thought you might want to see the other cou—"

"Of course I'll go!" I broke in louder than I meant to be. "I mean, of course. It would be so amazing to meet the other countries, and just to see Paris! Paris, wow..." Paris... I breathed shakily, thinking about how beautiful Paris must be.

Russia smiled widely. "This is spectacular! You will love Paris, it is wonderful! And so warm..."

I imagined Paris. The Eiffel Tower, sidewalk cafés, the smell of bakeries all over the place. But this was for a meeting. "Mr. Russia, what are the other countries like?" I asked.

He was quiet, thinking of an answer. "Well, I'll just say this: they are all very different." I didn't want to have him spoil the surprise, so I didn't ask anything else. What _were_ the other countries like? Italy had mentioned China, England, France... Italy! I'd get to see him again! Hadn't he mentioned an older brother? I relaxed and let Russia stroke my hair as I fantasized about what the others would be like. Other countries like Russia... What did they look like? Sound like? I would leave that for the day after tomorrow, because the present was wonderful enough as it was.

)*(*)*(

We stepped into the hotel room and, despite my aching feet, I ran to the bed and flopped down. Blissful! Russia and I had had to walk most of the way from the airport to the hotel, and I was bone tired. Luckily, the meeting wasn't until tomorrow. I sighed in content and turned my head to the side so I could breathe properly. Then I froze. There was only one bed.

"Um... Mr. Russia? There's only one bed in here," I said nervously.

Russia leaned the suitcases up against the wall and said. "Da. It was the only one available." I'd seen keys still hanging on the wall behind the concierge's desk and knew this was not the case. However, I went along with it.

"Oh, okay. So what time is the meeting tomorrow?" I asked, changing the subject. "Should I get up early, or are there any special arrangements?"

"It will be at 11 o'clock in the morning. We will break after an hour, have lunch, then resume for two more hours. You should wake up around 7 or so. The building is not far, but you might want to relax for a bit before we go."

I blinked and thought of another question. "Who will be at the meeting?"

Russia counted on his fingers as he said, "Me, you, America, England, France, China, Italy, Romano, Germany, and other ones."

Seven named countries. Seven more countries that were so different, along with "other ones". This seemed unreal. Impossible. Yet, it was.

I woke at seven thirty the next morning and silently got up from the bed and away from the sleeping Russian next to me. I opened my suitcase, not knowing what I would see. Lithuania had packed the bags as per Russia's instructions. My eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement then went way up as I pulled a dress out of the suitcase.

It was a lilac color and seemed to have glitter all over it that glinted every time it moved even the slightest. There were sunflowers embroidered on the bottom, near the hem. Several pearls were stitched near the neck and glimmered brightly. The sleeves were puffy, made of a soft, silky fabric, and so thin, they were nearly transparent. The dress didn't flare out to the sides, but merely draped down to, I guessed, my knees.

"Wow..." I whispered, holding the dress in my arms and marveling at it. It was simple, yet elegant. Beautiful, but not girly.

"You like it?" said a voice from behind me. I jumped and turned to see Russia. "Oh, yes, very much," I said. "It's..." I couldn't find the words to describe what this was to me. "I love it. Thank you." I hugged Russia and grinned widely. This had to be one of the best days of my life. The fact that Russia had taken me in, fed me, given my clothes, it all seemed to be completed by the gift of this amazing dress.

Russia and I parted, and I saw he was smiling too. "You should get changed. I bet the dress looks wonderful on you." I shook my head and ran to the bathroom. I put the dress on and looked in the mirror. It... No words can describe how that dress felt, how it looked on me. I turned around to see the back and gasped when the dress seemed to sparkle like stars in the night sky. I spent a long time in that bathroom, turning around and around, seeing the dress and me from all angles. It was simply breathtaking.

After a while, I slowly emerged from the bathroom and said, "What do you think?" Russia stared, but it wasn't frightening this time. He was staring at the way the garment shimmered, the pearls gleamed, just how incredible I looked. It took a long time for him to say, "We should go downstairs for... breakfast."

"Mmm... Can we go out? I want to try the local cuisine," I said sweetly.

"O-okay," Russia said. Now was his turn to stammer. "Красивый..." he murmured as he opened the door. "Просто красивый..."

)*(*)*(

This section of the story will be just awesome. If I can get my brain to focus! Shh, I'm writing...

Da - Yes

Красивый – Beautiful

Просто красивый – Simply beautiful


	12. Chair Lurking

We skipped out on the free breakfast buffet in the hotel, opting instead for a nearby cafe. Just some croissants and coffee, but the quality was superb. I felt full in minutes. Russia watched me as he nibbled at a croissant.

"What's wrong, Mr. Russia?" I asked, taking another chunk out of my pastry.

Russia crossed his arms and grumbled, "They don't have any vodka."

I could tell he was truly upset by this, but stifled a laugh. He was a grown man, pouting over not having any vodka. It reminded me of how Dmitry used to brood when I couldn't cook. Those nights, when we laid down in our beds with stomachs aching and crying out for food... Those nights were gone. Over. Dead. Just like them.

After eating our breakfast, I read a clock on the wall. 8 o'clock. We still had three hours. Without saying anything, I grabbed Russia's hand and took him with me. Together, we wandered around Paris, seeing landmarks, watching mimes, and, right before we started toward the conference building, bought a whole bunch of snacks.

A gray building, several stories tall, stood out against the vibrant colors of Paris. "We're going to the only bland building in Paris," I muttered as we entered.

The concierge led us to a room with a silver placard that said "COUNTRY CONFERENCE ROOM" in black letters. He left, Russia opened the door, and I gasped.

So much to take in, so many people! There were two men with blonde hair (one with short hair and bushy eyebrows, the other with hair a few inches shorter than my own and he had stubble on his chin) fighting and yelling stuff about wine and scones. Another man, wearing a brown bomber jacket, was just shouting, though I couldn't understand because he kept stuffing hamburgers into his mouth. Over near the back of the room, I spotted a guy that looked like Italy with darker hair (I guessed it was Romano) calling Germany a potato jerk. Italy was at his brother's shoulder, asking him to stop. Two Asian men, one with a ponytail and a panda, the other with short hair and swords, were talking about anime. Some other people I didn't recognize, and I saw a guy that looked almost identical to the hamburger eater, but he had a strand of curly hair and was holding a polar bear in his lap.

Someone called out "HEY, RUSSIA'S HERE!" and almost instantly, the noise ceased as everyone sat down. I could tell this was going to be crazy.

The man with hamburgers stepped up to a podium, still eating. "Oka, tho le'th get tharted! Firtht, that Othama Bin La-en guy. He ied 'ause o' ee 'ause"—he took a big gulp—"I'M THE HERO!"

"Hey, America," said the man with the short blonde hair as he stood. "I told you last time, don't eat while you're talking!" He had a British accent, so I assumed he was England.

America sighed dramatically. "Fine, then, if you're that stupid. So I was saying, I'm the hero, that's why _we _killed Osama bin Laden. Any questions? No, okay then we all agree that I'm the hero!"

"Hmph, he couldn't be heroic if he tried aru," said the man with the ponytail. "Don't you agree, aru?"

"I just wish England wouldn't interrupt anybody," replied the long blonde haired man. "It messes up ze mood." France, hands down. "What do you think, Japan?"

Japan slouched a little. "My stomach hurts..." he mumbled. "Ask Doitsu-san."

Germany frowned and said, "I'm making you do fifty push-ups later!" This just made Japan groan.

"Shut up, potato jerk!" Romano shouted. "Take your wurst and go back home!"

Everyone started to shout, but I heard Italy's voice rise above the din. "Anechka! You're here!" Every head in that room turned to look at me, and I blushed. "Um... hello," I said meekly, waving a little. They all crowded in my face.

"Have a hamburger!"

"Would you like a t-shirt and some instant coffee?"

"You don't like potatoes, do you?"

"Get America into this chair!"

"Your dress is looking exquisite, _chaton._"

"Here are some Chinese sweets aru!"

"SHUT UP!" Germany's voice was easily heard, even though I had my hands over my ears. Nobody sat back down, but they shut their mouths and turned to look at Germany. "Sit down, all of you!" When they stayed still, Germany shouted, "NOW!" They obeyed, and I could see a twitch right above his right eye. "...Right, let's get started. What issues are there to discuss?"

"I would like to know who that beautiful lady is with Russia," France said deviously. The smirk slipped off his face when Germany gave him a death glare.

"Fine, then, if nobody has any problems in their own countries, I'll begin..."

Germany began saying something about various crises in his countries, and I'm surprised I kept my eyes open. I just focused on some silver-haired, red-eyed guy lurking behind Germany's chair. At the end of the hour, Russia had to repeat himself several times before I actually heard and comprehended his words. I stood and wobbled; my legs had fallen asleep. "Lunchtime?" I said after steadying myself.

Russia nodded and took my arm in the crook of his elbow when France approached, followed by some guy I'd see hanging around with Romano and the chair lurker. He took my free hand and kissed it. "_Mon cheri,_ would you like to join us for some lunch?"

I raised my eyebrows and looked to Russia for confirmation. He nodded, and I said, "Okay." France took my hand in his and we left, with Russia calling, "Don't be late!"

France looked over his shoulder and said, "You forget, we have to be here too." Once we were out of the room, France shuddered and said, "When did he get you?"

This was an odd question. "What?"

"When did Russia kidnap you?"

I stopped walking and said, "What is that supposed to mean?"

All three men looked at me. "You live with Russia, meaning he took you from your home, _non?_" said France. The green-eyed guy and the chair lurker looked uncertainly at me.

"No, of course not. My home was destroyed. By barbarians. I live with Mr. Russia because I want to." _And he doesn't want me to leave,_ I added in my mind. Not wanting to dwell on the subject, I stepped forward and we kept walking. "Mr. France, where are we—"

"_Mon cher,_ call me Francis," said France.

We turned a corner, and I said, "Okay then, Francis. Where are we going for lunch?"

A smile was playing around France's lips, and he said, "Only one of ze best restaurants in all of Paris." He said nothing more, but kept leading Green-Eyes, the chair lurker, and me along. "_Ils sont avec moi_," said France to the woman at the front desk. She led us to a table and began having a conversation with France rapidly in French.

"So... Nice to meet you..." I left a space for them to introduce themselves.

The man with the green eyes said, "I'm Spain, but call me Antonio! _Encantado_! And this is—"

"And I'm the awesome Prussia!" the chair lurker broke in. "Just call me Prussia. No need to call me awesome, though it would be appreciated."

_This is going to take a long time, _I thought. _But... not in a bad way._

)*(*)*(

Sorry for the delay, everyone. I couldn't find time! Well, my secret project is still underway, and I'm working on random stuff. Haha, you guys will laugh when you see what i have planned for this! All right, you know the drill: read, review, fave, whatever...

Oka, tho le'th get tharted! Firtht, that Othama Bin La-en guy. He ied 'ause o' ee 'ause — Okay, so let's get started! First, that Osama Bin Laden guy. He died 'cause of me 'cause...

Doitsu-san — Mr. Germany

Wurst — A type of German sausage

Chaton — Kitten

Mon cherie — (My) sweetie

Non — No

Mon cher — My dear

Ils sont avec moi — They are with me

Encantado — Nice to meet you


	13. Scarf Rope

Okay, this notice is just so awesome that I HAD to put it before the story. My apologies! Since you guys were freaking awesome about me being absent fora month, I wrote almost 2 chapters' worth! I _know_ that's less than the three chapters from way back when, but I had to stop at an awesomely suspenseful point!

)*(*)*(

My belly ached as we walked slowly back to the conference building. We'd had a full 3-course lunch, and I had eaten every last bit. France only had to remind me of my manners once.

A little yellow bird chirped loudly as it flew around Prussia's head, then landed on it. "Um, Prussia..." He looked at me, and I pointed to the bird. "There's a bird... on your head."

He tipped his head sideways in confusion, and the bird began flying again. "What are you talking about?" he asked irritably as he swiped the top of his silvery hair. "Did Francis put you up to that?"

"No, she's right, mi amigo," said Antonio. "It just started flying again. _Tu eres un pájaro __loco_," he said to the bird as it landed on Prussia's head again.

There was silence in the hallway outside the conference room. "Shh." France held a finger to his lips and lightly pressed an ear to the door. He motioned for us to come closer. I listened closely and heard Germany say, "Well, since France and Spain aren't here, we'll just start witho— "

I fell forward as the door suddenly opened and France brightly announced, "We are here! Forgive us for being late, we just indulged in a delicious lunch. Ohonhonhon~" He floated back to his seat.

"Wanker," England muttered, glaring pointedly at France.

Nervously brushing my dress off, I got up and sat next to Russia. Spain sat in an empty chair near Romano. Prussia slipped, unnoticed, behind Germany's chair once again, the little bird roosting on his head.

The meeting continued; everyone present took their turn to explain current affairs in their country and to listen (rather inattentively) to the speaker. The only people who didn't get a turn were Prussia and the America look-alike with a polar bear.

I got up and stretched out, making a mental note never to go into politics. As Russia led me to the door, France slipped a piece of paper into my hand. "If you ever need our assistance," he whispered into my ear. I looked back, but he was talking to Prussia and Antonio.

)*(*)*(

I changed into pajamas: an oversized white T-shirt and some shorts. Hey, I never picked them out trying to look appealing. My legs swung freely over the side of the bed, and I hummed tunelessly as Russia brushed his teeth in the bathroom.

Then, I could hear him rinsing his mouth out. Afterward, something unexpected: a loud crack. Warily curious, I tiptoed to the bathroom door, which was open a crack and letting a sliver of fluorescent light show on the floor. There, reflected in the mirror, was Russia.

His image was slightly distorted from the long streaks radiating out from a point in the mirror. He'd broken it, and I saw his right fist was bleeding. I involuntarily inhaled sharply, and he met my eyes in the mirror. He looked insane and fuming. I ran for the exit, but with three steps, Russia was out of the bathroom and holding me by the collar.

I screamed, hoping someone would hear me, but Russia clamped a hand over my mouth and took his scarf off. He roughly pushed me onto the bed and tied me by the wrists to the bed post. His face again bore that angry, crazy expression. The Russia I usually knew was gone. Now, he was possessed by this demon, and I knew what it wanted to do.

Russia climbed on me and pinned my legs down with his knees. He grabbed my shirt and tore it right down the middle, exposing my bare torso. Pure terror was all I felt; where was all the adrenaline? His hand was no longer covering my mouth, but I stayed silent out of fear.

"Why do you stay quiet, Anechka? Your screams are so delicious," he purred. I still didn't make a sound. It was half defiance, I didn't want to please him in this state. The other half was that I was scared out of my wits.

"I'm not s-screaming for you. You've become monstrous again, Mr. Russia! Don't do this!" I searched my mind for his name, what was it again? "I-Ivan! Don't!" It didn't work, though. I kicked out when he got off of me; my legs were restrained once again when he grabbed my ankles and slipped my shorts and undergarments off.

Russia stared hungrily at my naked body; I breathed quickly and shallowly, seeing something on Russia's lower half I wish I hadn't.

We stayed there for a moment, then I broke out of my trance and crossed my legs and vainly tried to cross my arms across my chest. Russia chuckled deeply, ominously, under his breath. He removed the tanktop he wore and his pants. Only his boxers remained on. I held my breath and prayed he didn't take them off. Fortunately, he didn't. Unfortunately, he climbed on top of me and began to kiss me.

It was terrible; I shut my eyes tightly and bit his tongue as hard as I could until the salty, irony taste of blood filled my mouth. Russia recoiled and said, "You are a непослушная девочка, Anechka. I will have to teach you some manners." He leaned in closer and I kicked him hard in the face. A crunch, and he fell back, but I knew he was still conscious.

"You don't have to do this, Ivan. Ask yourself what will happen!" I shrieked.

"What will happen is you will become one with me," he growled. He got up again with a bloody nose, crawled up towards me. I kicked him with both feet as hard as I possibly could in the stomach and he fell again. I heard him panting, trying to regain his breath as quickly as possible.

Struggling, I managed to slip one hand out of the scarf and then the other. I grabbed the ceramic lamp on the bedside table and yanked it out of the socket. The light went out, and Russia was back up. The lamp shattered to pieces as it came in contact with Russia's head. He collapsed in a big heap and I could tell he was knocked out.

Like greased lightning, I ran to the suitcases and found a tanktop. I carefully extracted my shorts and unmentionables from underneath Russia's heavy body. I found the piece of paper France had given me earlier in the day and unfolded it. There was a room number, and, written underneath, "_Francis Bonnefoy, Antonio Carriedo, and Gilbert Beilschmidt reside in this room!_" Under that, scrawled messily, "**I'll conquer your vital regions! -(Awesome) Prussia**"

I figured out what floor the room would be on as I dashed out the door and into the hallway. Not even bothering with the elevator (after pressing the button about ten times), I sped up three flights of stairs. Turning right, I kept looking to the left, looking for the right room.

There! I almost passed it, but backpedaled and beat on the door as if my life depended on it, which, in fact, it might have.

After a few seconds, the lock clicked and France was beaming. "_Ma chérie_! How nice to—" His smile vanished when he got a good look at me and the expression on my face. "What's the matter?"

"No time to talk out here, please, let me in," I said quickly. France stepped aside.

"_Puis p__ar tous les moyens_..." He led me to the double beds and sat on the one opposite me. "Gilbert, Antonio, _viens ici_!"

Laser sounds from a connected room went quiet, and the other two countries entered. "What is it?" Prussia said angrily to France. "I was just about to beat his high score." Then he saw me. "Oh. Uh, _wilkommen_, I guess."

"_Hola_, Anechka! _¿Cómo estás?_" Antonio greeted me warmly, but I was deaf to it, sitting on the bed with my knees drawn up to my chest. I shivered; the hallways were freezing. They could tell I was having a panic attack of some sorts and just waited for me to speak.

After a very long silence, I whispered, "He tried to take me." All three of them looked at me, uncomprehending. I could feel the blankness in the air. "He wanted me to become one with him."

Antonio gasped loudly, Prussia made a weird croak in the back of his throat, and France got to his feet, yelling, "WHAT?"

I nodded sullenly. "He didn't do anything, though. I broke a lamp on his head. But he's probably looking for me now. Please don't go after him; he's on a rampage."

"_Non_, Anechka. He will pay for this... this..."

"Crime?" offered Prussia hoarsely.

"CRIME! That _salaud _will pay dearly for what he did to you!" France declared passionately.

Now, I got up and put a hand on his arm. "Francis. Please, please, please, don't go after Mr. Russia. He will kill you, or at least seriously hurt you. I don't want you injuring yourself on my behalf."

"But I must avenge you for what he did! A pretty girl like you should never have to go through—"

I looked up at him, straight in the eyes. "Francis, _s'il vous plaît_, do not try to hurt him. It will not end well. Even with my prettiness to give you strength," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. I also hoped the only French word I remembered from a short lesson he'd given me in the restaurant would bring him to his senses.

It worked, because he laughed for just a fraction of a second. Then his face became upset again. "It won't work, though. Even if we keep you here tonight." I nervously asked why, and he opened his mouth to say something.

Prussia answered instead. "They called another emergency meeting tomorrow. Everyone has to be there."

I gave up and laid down on the bad, facedown. "It's okay, _amiga,_you can just stay here during the meeting," Antonio said, though his voice quivered.

"What about when I have to go home?" I said sorrowfully, my words muffled by the bedsheets. "It's not like I can just not go home. I left my balalaika at Mr. Russia's house. My mother gave it to me before she died. I need it."

There was a collective sigh from the three men in the room. I sighed softly too; the near future, whatever happened, seemed pretty bleak at the moment. In a few moments, it got bleaker.

There was a knock at the door. Prussia went to the door and looked out the peephole. He turned back to us, not saying anything. He didn't need to; his expression said it all. Even so, he whispered in a shaky voice, "Russia's at the door."

)*(*)*(

Yes! Thanks for waiting for FOREVER! I do apologize profusely for abusing Google Translate here, but French is just so awesome. And I also apologize to anyone offended by the *awkward* scene up there and if I caused any confusion by calling Spain "Antonio". Anechka's just weird, I guess. Now for the bounty of translations!

Translations:

Tu eres un pájaro loco — You are a crazy bird

Непослушная девочка — naughty girl

Ma chérie — My darling

Puis par tous les moyens... — Then by all means...

Viens ici! — Come here!

Wilkommen — Welcome

Hola — Hello

¿Cómo estás? — How are you?

Salaud — Son of a b****

S'il vous plaît — Please

Amiga — Female Friend (not girlfriend!)

So, as always, review (anonymously, if you wish), fave the story, fave me, and keep reading!


	14. Rooftop Refuge

France stumbled for a short moment before ushering me to the bathroom. There was a cabinet under the sink, just large enough for me to hide in. "In there. And if Russia find you or anything happens, go straight to China's room." He told me the room number, and I repeated it in my mind as I hid, and France turned the lights out and left the door open a bit so as not to look suspicious.

I faintly heard the door opening and Prussia saying, "Oh, _guten nacht_, Russia. What are you doing wandering out at such a late hour?" He sounded as if I'd never come to their room.

"Oh, just looking for Anechka. She ran off somewhere, and I'm looking for her here." Russia's voice sounded friendly enough, but I heard his insanity on the edges.

"Why would she be here?" Antonio asked. I wished I could hit him.

What Russia said next, I couldn't hear. "Well, I really—" France's reply was cut off suddenly. I assumed it was Russia's pipe appearing. "Very well then."

I could hear Russia pass the bathroom and look in the bedroom. There was the sound of his boots dragging on the carpet as he went to the other bedroom; I took this as a sign he was fully clothed.

Obviously, I wasn't in there, and I sighed in relief as Russia passed the bathroom again, going towards the front door. I shouldn't have thought I was in the clear. He stepped back and stopped two feet away, in the bathroom doorway. He entered.

Scarcely daring to breath, I listened as he turned on the light, walked to the shower and looked behind the curtain, beside the toilet. Then, his slow footsteps paused in front of the cabinet where I was concealed. The hinges squeaked as the doors opened.

"Ane—" "GET HIM!" France, Prussia, and Antonio bowled Russia over before he could say my name, and there was a struggle. The four of them were tangled up on the floor; my saviors tore at Russia's hair, restrained him, and ultimately kept him from getting to me while trying not to get injured themselves. I watched wide-eyed, my head sticking out from the cabinet opening.

"Run, Anechka!" yelled France. "We can only hold him for so long!"

I blinked and scrambled out of my hiding place. There was a thud against the wall as I ran to the stairwell to get to the next floor.

Searching desperately for China's room, I made sure I didn't miss it. After knocking once, there was an Asian man with short hair standing at the door. He gave off a sense of reservation and quiet, and he seemed very polite. I recognized him as Japan.

"Oh, _konnichiwa_. What can I do for you?" he asked in a mild voice.

"I'm being chased by someone. Francis—er, France said that I should come here." I remembered that he had been at the meeting, talking about anime. I took notice of his hair. Hadn't Italy said China had long hair? He must have been talking to China at the conference.

After a moment of consideration, Japan said, "I suppose you can come inside." He let me in, and I thanked him. It was another double room. The door leading to the other room was ajar, and standing in the shadows was another man with his long hair in a ponytail.

"_Ni hao_. I am China, aru. You were at the meeting, right, aru?" he asked. Why did he say aru after his sentences?

"I am Anechka Volkov. And yes, I was at the meeting with Russia. Speaking of which, he is after me, but France said I could stay here until he calms down. I really hope you don't mind." If he did mind, I'd probably be dead.

"Hmm. Well, he probably won't look here, aru. You can stay until it's safe, aru. Japan, be polite and make some tea for this girl, aru."

"_Hai_," Japan said with a short bow. He went to boil some water and I said, "What is that?"

China held up the plush toy in his hand. "This is my Hello Kitty doll, aru. Isn't she cute, aru?" He held the doll close and squeezed it. I mumbled something about it being nice.

I waited idly until Japan presented me with a steaming cup of tea. "It's green tea. Very good for your health."

"Thank you," I said. The sip I took was piping hot and really bitter. As I sucked in air to cool my burning mouth, I thought, _Good for your health, not your mouth_.

The tea disappeared slowly as I listened for any sound on the floor below. It so happened that France's room was one under and one to the left from the one I was in. Suddenly, there was a loud slam, like a heavy door shutting hard; I jumped and spilled a bit of tea on my leg. Oh, the pain.

Russia was going to be here any second.

Wait, wait. China said Russia probably wouldn't look here. He wouldn't really have a reason to; I didn't know Japan or China. If anything, he'd most likely look in Italy's room first. Poor Italy. He might check Germany's room next. Perhaps America? It was difficult to tell what Russia's next course of action would be. Maybe he would just wait until it was time to go back home. I relaxed a bit.

China taught me how to play Go, though I wasn't very good at it. After failing at that for about an hour, Japan tried to teach me how to draw. The best I could manage were nice-looking stick figures. While Japan shaped rice balls as a snack (we started to get tired from waiting for Russia to bust the door down), I glanced at the Hello Kitty clock China had set on the nightstand. 1:34 in the morning. I'd been here for more than two hours. I couldn't complain, though. They were nice.

Japan handed me a small plate with a few rice balls (they're actually called onigiri), and I took a bite. Then another. Soon, it was gone. I polished off the other three just as there was a knock on the door. Japan produced a sword from his small suitcase, and China pushed me toward the door connecting the two rooms. I stepped behind the open door and, peering through the space between the hinges, saw China standing in the middle of the other room.

The lock clicked, and Japan said, "Roshia-san, what are you doing about at such a late hour?" Prussia had said pretty much he same thing. I hoped he was all right.

"I'm looking for Anechka." Russia sounded frustrated. He hadn't calmed down yet.

"Who? We don't know any Anechka, aru. Just go back to your room, aru." China was holding a wok and ladle. His knuckles were white and his muscles tense.

Russia growled and sent Japan flying into China. The former got up, leaving China dazed on the floor. Japan ran at Russia, who was now barely in my field of vision, with his sword. Russia sidestepped, grabbed the weapon, and ripped it from its owner's hands. Japan watched, speechless, as Russia bent the sword into a V shape and threw it to the floor. The shorter country stepped back, but was grabbed by Russia and thrown over China, who had gotten up, and into the wall. China watched Japan with a terrified expression. I was willing to bet he didn't get up.

Now, China faced Russia. "Russia, just go away, aru! You have no business here, aru!" He raised the ladle. "Go!"

"I don't want to hurt you, China." Russia took two, three steps toward China, who cringed with every footfall. "Just tell me where she is."

China's face showed a mixture of fear and fury. "I told you, I don't know Anechka, aru! Leave!"

With a demented grin, Russia murmured, "Then you leave me no choice." He walked forward. China tried to strike him with the wok, but Russia got it and hit the other man on the head. It was difficult to suppress a gasp. "Where are you, Anechka? I know you're here." I turned my eye from its peeping place, trying to keep the light from reflecting off of it.

Russia again searched the bed, the area around it, the bathroom. He came into the second room last, not seeing me behind the door. Once he was at the far end of the room, looking under the desk, I darted out and closed the door. There was a key above the door to lock it from the outside. I turned the key in the lock and ran to the window, and opened the window. Looking back, I saw China unmoving on the floor and Japan slumped against the wall under me in the same state. I bit my lip, hoping they were alive. Especially China, being hit on the head by Russia.

Maybe there was roof access? Russia wouldn't think to look for me there, would he? I wasn't in the best shape, but perhaps I could make my way up to the roof... It took a while, but I quietly clambered up the fire escape and was at the top level when I saw the roof two feet out of my reach. I tried jumping up, though that didn't work. I tried getting on the far railing and leaping to the roof. All I got was a bad scrape on the forehead. With blood trickling down towards my eyes, I edged along the rail and stood where it touched the wall, then struggled for a few moments before getting up to the top. The moon shone clearly, though it hung in the sky alone; the bright city lights made seeing the stars impossible.

I rolled onto my back and laughed quietly to myself. Surely I was out of the woods now. Even with that thought comforting me, I curled up in the far corner of the rooftop, hopefully out of sight of anyone happening to come upon the roof. I wiped the blood from my forehead with the front of my tanktop and saw my shorts had dried blood on them too. Probably from Russia's bleeding hand.

What a wonderful nightmare.

"Anechka!" I heard Russia calling my name with an angry tone. I didn't reply. There was silence, and I sighed. When would this night end? The sound of clanging metal. My eyes dilated, my head shot up.

"Idiot!" I whisper-yelled while smacking my forehead with the heel of my palm. I'd left the ladders down on the fire escape! Russia knew I was up here!

Great. Cornered on the rooftop. There was nowhere to go but... down. I turned my head and saw the street several stories below. My palms got sweaty, I got a weird pit in my stomach, and I gulped hard. Okay, strike that. There was nowhere to go.

I kept looking toward the edge of the roof, waiting for Russia's head to appear as his footsteps drew closer. This was the end.

There he was. His purple eyes glittered in the moonlight. I swallowed and stayed quiet. _Please don't let him see me, please don't let him see me_.

He saw me.

Russia climbed up the rest of the way and walked toward me, his pipe dragging along on the concrete with a sick grating sound. "You dare to run away from me?" he asked threateningly. Yeah, he was still angry. I really wished there was a guardrail around the edges of that roof, because I crawled backwards a little and my hand slipped over the side. I pulled it back.

"Mr. Russia, please, calm down. What are you angry about? What did I do?" Stalling for time while he stood right in front of me. What a wonderful thing to do.

He just swung his pipe at me. I jumped back reflexively, and reached out for the curved end of the pipe. I took hold just in time. Now, Russia's grip on the pipe was the only thing keeping me from falling to my death. I looked down. Vertigo struck me, I felt dizzy and got triple vision.

"S-say, Mr. Russia," I sad with a violently quavering voice, "w-what are the ch-chances of you d-d-dropping the pipe?"

His eyebrows pointed down as his mouth curled into a smile. "Little to none. But I will drop you, Анечка." He raised his boot and brought it down on my fingers. The pressure was crushing my hands, making them ache.

"No! Please, don't!" I cried. "I'll do anything, just let me live!" Then again, I could probably come up with a list of at least ten things I wouldn't do.

"It's too late for that," Russia said, grinding his heel into my knuckles. I shrieked from the pain, and one hand relinquished its grasp. Russia smiled wider. "Now will you let go?"

I screamed, "Please, Mr. Russia! Don't let me fall!" The blood now collecting in my eyes was stinging, the ground far below made me dizzy, and the hand still holding on to the pipe was getting sweaty and starting to slip.

Russia cackled. "Where are your tears, сука? If you want to live so badly, why do you not cry? Cry, and maybe I will spare you!" He knew I couldn't cry to save my life, literally. He stepped harder on my hand. "Just let go, it will be easier that way!" He was laughing.

Another glance at the street so far beneath me. My life flashed before my eyes. The day my parents were killed. My house going up in flames. Russia carrying me home in the snow. Belarus chasing us. Sightseeing in Paris. I looked back up at Russia, momentarily searched his face for the Russia I thought I knew. Not a trace.

I let go.

)*(*)*(

Oh no... She let go. Pfft. Anyway, you see my mind has taken a dark turn from this chapter. I just wanted to experiment to see how China and Japan would react to Anechka. Weird. All right, I'm off to write something else now. I've got an idea bubbling on the edges of my mind, and I just _might_ put it up here. If I get around to it. :P

Translations:

Guten nacht — Good evening

Konnichiwa — Hello (Japanese)

Ni hao — Hello (Chinese)

Aru — Japanese stereotype of a Chinese accent

Hai — Yes

Анечка — Anechka

Сука — B*tch

Yes, Russia just cussed at Anechka. I actually laughed while writing that. *insane* All righty, that wraps up this author's note. Review, fave, tell your friends and family about my stories! ...That last part was optional. ;)


	15. Merry Christmas

The sickening feeling of falling through empty space hit me as I plummeted toward the ground, screaming like heck. Russia was smiling gleefully at me from the rooftop above; he cupped a hand around his ear and turned his head to the side. I could feel my vocal cords straining and blood pumping through my head, which was starting to hurt badly. I turned in the air to face the ground and felt like I was falling in slow motion. At least there was no one on the streets to see my insides stain the sidewalk. The ground was rushing up towards me, and I closed my eyes, hoping my death would be quick and relatively painless. What I got was a crack and a sharp pain on my nose before falling back onto a cushy seat. I got the sensation of flying or something before blacking out.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked an unfamiliar voice with a queer and slightly warbling accent. I wanted to say, "Yeah, I'm totally fine; just fell from the top of a ten story building and probably broke my nose, but other than that, I'm perfectly okay!"

What I actually said was, "Uhh... I dink my nobe id broken." My eyes opened, and I saw a man with blonde hair and purple eyes, which made me start a bit. His face was kind, though. Not like Russia's. He was also dressed up as Santa Claus, which I found quite strange. "Who are you?"

He smiled. "I'm Finland! Merry Christmas!" Christmas? It was April!

I sat up and wiped my nose. It was painful, and my wrist came away glistening and red with blood. I could breathe properly, though. Maybe it wasn't broken. "Not to dampen your spirits, but it's April." Quickly, I looked around and saw that I was in a red, velvety sleigh that was being pulled by flying reindeer and hovering very... very... high. I felt dizzy again.

Finland said, "Christmas can be celebrated all year! I bring it wherever I go, to all the good boys and girls!" He held a hand out to me and a little orb of light appeared above it. A fuzzy image focused, and I saw a guy with long hair in a frilly pink nightshirt talking on the phone while holding up a blue shirt I'd seen Lithuania wear on occasion.

"Oh em gee, hey, Liet, you'll, like, never believe this! I like, heard something before I went to sleep, right? So I get up, and there's, like, this present on top of my suitcase! It was, like, pink! I was all, 'OH MY GOD WHAT.' I open the thing, and, like, I find that top! You know, Liet, like, that top I wanted to borrow from you and stuff! Isn't that, like, so awesome?" He spoke quickly and enthusiastically before hugging the shirt tightly.

"Er, Poland, I still have that shirt and—"

"And there was, like, this letter from SANTA! Ohmigod, I sooo wish you were here!" Poland cut Lithuania off in the middle of his sentence. He squealed and said, "'Kay thanks, bye Liet!"

The image disappeared and Finland put his hand down. "See?" I was struggling to think of where I'd heard about Finland before.

"I see... Oh, wait! Italy told me about you! He said Sweden's your husband or something..." I was thinking about what Russia would do to Finland if he found out. Well, too late. Russia had probably seen Finland snatch me up in his sleigh.

Finland's face turned bright red and he said, "Sweden is _not_ my husband!" His voice was about an octave higher than normal. He huffed and his face turned a bit paler; closer to normal. Finland reached back to a giant burlap sack sitting in the back of the sleigh and handed me my bag along with my balalaika case. I opened both and saw they contained what they had when I'd first arrived at Russia's house plus a little food.

"Wow! Thanks, Finland! Now I just have to—" I stopped short. What would I do? Where would I go? Where could I go? I looked down at the case in my hands and was quiet for a while. Then I said, "Finland, I want to see where France, Spain, and Prussia are."

Finland paused, then said, "Okay." He showed me a view of the trio, who were sitting in Japan and China's room, telling them their side of the story.

"He tied us all up and then knocked me out, since I was the last one awake," Prussia said with an air of haughtiness. "We woke up a lot later and Francis said we should come here."

"Well," said China, "Russia came here a couple hours ago and attacked us, aru. Last thing I remember, he hit me over the head with my wok, aru." China rubbed the top of his head.

Japan said, "He overtook me before China, so I do not remember much."

France nodded in understanding. "We have to figure out where—" He stopped when his eyes landed on the open window. "What is that window doing open?"

China followed his gaze and said, "Hm. I didn't notice that before, aru." All five of them stepped out onto the fire escape and saw the ladders down. Spain whispered, "I think she went up there."

They ran up to the top and used each other to climb up to the roof, where Russia sat on the edge, his legs dangling over the side. France called angrily, "Hey, Russia!"

Russia got up and walked toward them. His face showed relief. "Oh, слава Богу, you're here! I've been looking all over and can't find Anechka anywhere!"

Prussia said, "First of all, why are you on a rooftop?"

"Second," said France, "you know EXACTLY where she is, you _salaud_!"

Russia looked confused. "I swear, I don't know what happened to her! I just found myself up here and—"

"Wait." Spain said quietly. "Just found... Oh, _dios mio_." He whispered something in France's ear, who suddenly frowned deeply and dangerously.

He stomped forward, grabbed the front of Russia's coat, and shouted at him, "What happened to her?"

"I don't know what happened to her! I can't remember—"

"REMEMBER! TRY TO REMEMBER!" France was in a rage. His face was flushed, and everyone else on the other side of the roof was cowering.

Looking forlorn, Russia fell silent and strained his mind, making a desperate attempt to recall what happened to me. He suddenly dropped his pipe and sank to his knees. "She fell off the roof."

France's eyes widened and he ran to the edge of the roof. Russia crawled after him. They looked over the edge and didn't see me. France wheeled on Russia. "LIAR! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"

Russia got up and backed up, toward the center of the rooftop. "I didn't— She fell! I remember! She was holding on to my pipe, and I stepped on her fingers and she fell!"

France looked about to burst. He balled up his fist and swung at Russia. It connected, and Russia fell over.

"Oh, God, they're fighting! Finland, turn it off, please." I turned away, and Finland made the image evaporate.

He asked, "Do you want me to take you down there?"

I sighed and said, "No. I could fall off again or get hurt or something. Just..." In that moment, I knew where I would go. Or at least, visit. "Can you fly me somewhere?"

Finland took the reins and said, "Anywhere."

)*(*)*(

3 cheers for Finland with Santa powers! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Okay, that's over with. I tend to listen to oldies songs while writing, so this may seem kind of... I don't know. But I mean, come one, who _doesn't_ love Rick Astley? So where do you guys think she'll go? Her destination is open to suggestion; I've got an idea of what will happen, but you guys brainstorm. Cookies for anyone who can identify the song Poland's scene was influenced by!

Translations:

I dink my nobe id broken — I think my nose is broken

Aru — Japanese stereotype of a Chinese accent

Слава Богу — Thank God

Salaud — Son of a b*tch

Dios mio — (Oh) My God

France likes to curse, it seems. All right, I've got to eat some lunch, I'll be back within two weeks with a new chapter, depending on how bad my writer's block is. So read, review, tell your friends and pen pals and fave!


	16. Privyet, Russia

There was some conversation between us, little things like how was Paris and what did I eat for dinner, but, to my relief, he didn't pry. We must have been flying fast, because as we traveled, the landscape's features came and went in a blur. The next thing I knew, below us was a vast, empty area filled only with brown grass and snow melting in the sunshine. Finland looked over at me and told me we had been in Russia for a while. I breathed in the cold air and realized I was freezing. A blanket was draped over my shoulders, and my eyes stayed focused on the land so far away.

Gradually, the sled's path curved, and we slowed considerably. As we did so, I saw a giant house that was all too familiar and squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds, wanting to block out the memories. Another quarter hour or so, and I saw a large patch of burnt grass and blackened shapes on the ground. Time seemed to freeze as a shudder ran through me. It wasn't from the cold. Merely staring in bewilderment, I didn't blink or look away for a long while. Until, that is, I realized the sleigh had stopped moving, and Finland was watching me curiously with his head tipped to the side questioningly. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's just— AH-CHOO!" I sneezed and sniffled as my nose ran a little. As I wrapped the blanket tighter around me and pointed down, Finland peered over the edge and realization slowly dawned on his face.

"Is that the...?" I nodded, and his expression became solemn. A pause, then he spoke. "I'm sorry... But, um, we have to keep moving. Is there anywhere nearby you can stay?" I instructed him to keep flying and look out for any other towns.

He alerted me to one some time later. It wasn't a very big place, but I told him to land a bit away so as not to scare anyone. After promising him several times that I'd be back within a half hour, he let me go into town.

Bright beacons of hope were radiating from everywhere. The place was probably larger than my old dwelling to some degree, but it had the same feeling of closeness. It was the kind of place where everyone knew you and you knew everyone else. The kind of town where you didn't go for a walk without everyone noticing. That little place at the corner of the earth where someone goes to their neighbor's house for a big dinner of borscht and pirozhki every night. It was like home.

There was nothing I didn't love. At the small local market, there were people going from stand to stand, checking out prices and few crops and herbs others could grow in their backyards, along with meager hauls from ice fishing trips. It was the center of the town; houses were surrounding the assortment of tents and wooden boxes on all sides. I sat against the side of someone's dish stand and listened to conversations that were both in Russian and English. Little inquiries I made about the town were answered in a short but warm manner that made me grin despite myself.

Eyes bright, I ran back to Finland's sleigh, where he sat going through a long list of names highlighted red or green. "Finland!" He looked up. "I think this is the place. They have a market and houses and nice people and they speak English!" He smiled.

"You really think so?" I nodded several times until I felt like my brain was bouncing around in my skull. "You'll have to find a place to stay then." After a long deliberation, we decided I would go door to door and ask for board. I didn't like the insult to my dignity, but Finland insisted it was quickest way to find a roof to live under. "Hey, maybe someone has a vacant house you can live in!" Finland was met with my skeptical glare.

Reluctantly, I walked about, searching for any good souls who would be offering a place in their home for a teenage girl they'd never seen before. I was met with gently closing doors and faces hinting suspicion until much later, when the sun was nearing the western horizon and casting long shadows on the icy ground.

A kind hearted old couple whose daughter had long ago moved to Moscow to pursue her career in ballet still had her house in their possession. Of course, they were a bit wary, but I told them my story bit by bit, and they believed me. It goes without saying that I was elated.

After only a few days, we had worked everything out and I'd looked around the house, which was, although not very spacious, very clean and tidy. As I called good-bye to Finland, who was rising in the sky with his crew of reindeer and giant bag of gifts, I was grinning again. What an improvement from only four days ago! I was completely, entirely free from my old life and given a clean slate, a second chance. My life was truly about to start over.

**8 months later...**

"Babushka, I've decided to visit my old village tomorrow evening." I raised my fork to my mouth and nibbled on the potato pancake on the end of it as Babushka and Dedushka (the couple who let me live in their daughter's house) exchanged a glance.

"Are you sure, Анечка?" asked Dedushka. "You may get a bit emotional."

Babushka nodded. "Whatever you do, make sure you don't catch a cold or something." I scoffed at her.

"I can handle it. It's not like I'll break down crying or anything like that. And I'll make sure to bring a coat. Maybe Ms. Semak has some flowers for me to put there. I'll have to remember to ask Mr. Petrovin to give me a cross, too. Oh, and don't expect me back til late." I had invited them over to my house specifically to tell them tonight. Along with serving them some draniki and ukha, of course.

We were able to quickly get over that bump in our conversation and resumed debating about whether or not the Nenov family next door would hold a banquet on the winter solstice, since the one last year hadn't gone too well, or so I'd heard from Dedushka.

)*(*)*(

The crunch of snow underneath my boots sounded strangely satisfying. My balalaika case was slung around my back, since I'd decided to play a song for them. The basket Babushka had given me was swinging freely around my arm, containing a wooden cross, a few roses, some bread and kvass, and a sizable quilt wrapped around silverware and a plate.

"Make sure you don't lose that basket," she had said gruffly. "I made it for Ded as a gift during the war." I had sighed dramatically.

"I won't lose it, Babushka. Promise."

Over on the horizon line was a tall-ish mound of burnt debris that I'd come to recognize as the church I used to take Dmitry and Irena to every Sunday. It was my guide now.

Soon, I was seated on the blue quilt next to my house. Or at least, as close to my house as I could be compared to the church, seeing as the ground was covered in a cold, white blanket. I removed the rest of the basket's contents and laid them out in front of me. The cross went into the hard earth, the flowers were gently set, one at a time, in front of it.

"Dmitry, Irena, Halina, Gregori, please be safe," I whispered as each rose touched the ground. A prayer was whispered into my hands, then released to the sky. Not a tear was shed throughout the whole ceremony. My teeth closed around a portion of bread and I chewed while looking around. It wasn't that different from when I last remembered; the buildings were just gone. Along with the people. Another bite of bread, a sip of bottled kvass from Babushka's private store. Yes, very similar.

The next section of bread hadn't reached my mouth, and it never would. It fell from my hands when I saw her. No matter how much I blinked or rubbed my eyes, she didn't go away. Was it really...? Quickly, clumsily, I stumbled through the snow and called her name. She turned around, and a little boy peeked out from behind her. Two taller figures came out of nowhere, and two figures bigger then them walked out from behind a burnt down house, all of them just watching me as I kept falling over and getting back up.

By the time I reached the two children, all six of them were standing together and beaming at me. "Anechka?" said the teenage girl.

"H-Halina! Gregori! Dmitry, Irena, Mama, Papa!" I was sitting in the snow, looking up at my friends and family now glowing golden and translucent. They smiled wider. "Oh, how I missed you all!" I was quiet for a long moment, as my overjoyed smile slowly turned into a frown. "It's my fault you died! I shouldn't have let you gone out, I should've warned you, and I should have gotten you two out of the house. It's all my fault!" I blurted out, pointing to the pairs in turn. "All my fault..." I hung my head in silence until there was a gentle touch on my shoulder. I looked up and saw my mother crouched down and looking at me sternly.

"Милый, it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. Don't blame yourself for things that could not have been prevented." Her face was firm, but, at the same time, showed support and love. Dmitry stood on his knees and placed his hand on mine.

"Mama's right. You wouldn't've been able to run with us. You were meant to live." He spoke with much more wisdom than he had when he was alive.

All of the sat around me and offered words of encouragement and love. "We've been watching over you, Anechka," said my father. "We made sure you didn't suffer like we did; when Russia beat you, we kept you alive." Halina was using her soft voice, the one she used around the kids when they threw tantrums.

"By we, she means me, obviously." Gregori got slapped upside the head by Halina. My father looked at me— maybe through me— with his wise, knowing eyes. "We couldn't directly interfere with the living, but we didn't leave your side at one moment. We've always been with you."

This made me laugh out of joy. They had never left my side. "Is this real?"

"Why do you ask?" asked Irena.

"I just don't want this all to be a dream."

"Well," said my mother, "even if we are not real, these ruins certainly exist. You are not in a dream,." The words stirred a memory. They knew what it was the moment my gaze snapped to them.

"Go to him," said Gregori. I asked how I would find where he was.

"We'll leave a sign," said my mother. All of them agreed. "But first," said Halina, "you'll."have to return Babushka's basket."

Nervously, I crawled back to the little picnic and fumbled trying to clean up the food and drink I'd barely touched. Behind me, I heard Gregori mumble, "Nice roses." When the basket was refilled, I wrote on it with charcoal from a burnt structure nearby. "I love you, but I'm afraid I have to leave. - Anechka" was a terribly short message that was written very sloppily, but it would have to do.

"You'll leave a sign?" I called over my shoulder as I ran toward town. All of them waved and shimmered for a second before disappearing. I took it as a yes.

Nobody was out and about, though I could tell some were still having dinner, because small amounts of light filtered through windows, and voices drifted from chimneys. I looked into Babushka's window and saw her sitting in her rocking chair, knitting something while Dedushka read a book in the chair opposite her. The single candle between them flickered and made their shadows dance around on the walls and the floor. With a twinge of regret, I left the basket on the doorstep and knocked on the door before hiding behind another house.

Dedushka opened the door and glanced left, right, and almost closed the door before seeing the basket. His eyebrows shot up, and he didn't bother closing the door as he showed Babushka the basket.

"She probably had a good reason," said Babushka. "But she wrote on my basket!" She swore in Russian before getting up and looking out the door. "...I hope you're all right and you know what you're doing."

I ran without looking back.

)*(*)*(

There was an arrow. An arrow made of burnt bits of wood that pointed to the right with the word "follow" written in the snow above it, and that was it. The roses in front of the cross were gone, and there was something written on the ground where the flowers had been. "We love you." It was hard to read in the dark, but my eyes made out that one sentence.

I could feel them around me, all of them, supporting me and cheering me on (if that makes sense). I set off to the right, hoping my earlier encounter hadn't been a hallucination. It wasn't.

Not long after, a shape appeared at the skyline. It grew and defined itself, becoming his house. Russia's house. I opened the gate as quietly as I could, stepping through while hitting my balalaika case on it. It was now very dark, and I stumbled at times, but I made it to the door. My fist rapped on it before I knew what I was doing.

Footsteps. Someone was coming down the stairs to the door. _Heavy_ footsteps. That someone was probably Russia. I frantically racked my brain for what in the whole wide world I could say. What could I say? I hadn't seen him in almost a year, though I'd been only a few miles from his house. I was still thinking, my knees were still knocking, my mind was still wandering when he appeared in the doorway.

Russia looked horrid, to say the least. He smelled strongly of vodka and filth, and his eyelids were droopy and tired. His stance was slouching and that of someone who didn't want to be awake at the moment. He wore only a tanktop and boxers, along with his scarf, which obviously hadn't been washed for quite some time.

His gaze sharpened when it rested on me. I met it, and suddenly broke the silence with laughter. Why? I have no idea why, but I laughed and threw myself into his arms. He caught on quickly and swung me in a circle, holding me tightly and laughing along with me. Something beaded up at the edges of my eyes; something salty and wet. I gasped something about not being able to breathe, and he put me down.

We looked into each others' eyes, and I knew what I was going to say.

"Privyet, Russia."

)*(*)*(

EDIT: Something went wrong, and I have to write this whole A/N over again. UGH.

HAPPY SAPPY REUNION, EVERYONE! Thanks for sticking with me through to the end, guys, it's been great writing for you (mostly for me, haha!) and reading all your reviews! The figures for faves and alerts always puts me over the top! You guys rock! *thumbs up*

I think I have a habit of inserting sappy scenes where there should be something newly dramatic, something fresh. It provides a sort of comic relief for me. XD

Translations:

Babushka — Grandmother

Dedushka — Grandfather

Анечка — Anechka

Милый — Sugar, dear (if this is wrong...)

Privyet, Russia — Hello, Russia

AND NOW... the all-important question! Answer it through reviewing or through the poll on my profile page! :D

**SHOULD I HAVE A SEQUEL?**

Well, that's the end. No epilogue, I swear. Yeah, no epilogue; I'm too tired! I will, however, write a sequel if someone requests it. :) Read, tell your friends, fave (no more alerts; it's over, remember?), and vote on my poll! *teary-eyed* Please! Ghosts. I was bored.


End file.
